


Songs and Stories

by SilentMagi



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 67
Words: 77,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentMagi/pseuds/SilentMagi
Summary: Sometimes songs have tales to tell, but it may not always be the same one for all. These are songs my friend Logo_Comics on tumblr sent to me in response to ones I sent him. I will link to his story in each chapter.





	1. Danse Macabre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LOGO_Comics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LOGO_Comics/gifts).



Song: [Danse Macabre](https://youtu.be/YyknBTm_YyM) by National Philharmonic Orchestra, originally composed by Camille Saint-Saëns

Logo-Comics had Song: [It’s the Fear](https://youtu.be/NCvGwTWROJc) by Within Temptation [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39695484)

* * *

 

Dip, swirl, step, turn.

 

The dance was a wonderful affair, with light festive music, and gaily dressed people everywhere. Of course the dance was beautiful and brilliant, since it was the royal ball, held in a massive and opulent room at the palace, with ivory and gold trimming every surface.

 

In the middle of the ballroom, one woman stood out from all the rest in her shimmering emerald and pink dress, spinning from partner to partner with seeming ease no matter the music being played. The demure smile, and coy amber eyes invited and enticed, while the ebony mask trimmed in carmine warned others to not get too close. The pale pallor of her skin would have been the height of fashion at one time, but any that held her hand found it to bring about an unnatural chill to their body.

 

Dip, swirl, step, turn.

 

One watching her long enough would see that she had a dance within a dance occurring, bringing her to each suitor in turn and never staying for long. Then the suitors she had left would fade into the background like smoke, leaving her the sole focus within a stage of opulence and wealth. Her dress would flare out with every spin, and her arms would flow gracefully with the rest of her body.

 

As the night wore on, the lady continued dancing, never tiring, never pausing in her dance. Her skin continued to hold the shimmering white of snow, and her eyes always begged for the next person to come and join her on the floor. No longer was it just men that danced with her, as daring young ladies came forth to join her in the dance, their dresses pale and ratty by comparison.

 

Dip, swirl, step, turn.

 

Swirling around and around in the center of the circle, her emerald dress flared out and revealed her dance shoes, long worn by hours upon hours of dancing, formerly some hue of white perhaps, now a deep crimson that trailed behind her in streaks and splotches as she continued dancing. Her lips a frozen, alluring smile, while her eyes continued seeking someone to dance with, and never lacking in a new partner to find and draw in. Even as trails of water rolled out from under her domino mask.

 

The crimson stained the once polished wood of the floor as she continued dancing in the center, the other revelers caring not for her suffering as she continued dancing. Dipping back in the arms of a partner, before swirling to the arms of another, who would catch her and move her into the next step of the pattern, turning her twice before repeating the dip once more.

 

Dip. Swirl. Step. Turn.

 

The hall was filled with the music that drowned out her weak cries to stop, the pleas falling on deaf ears that laughed in return. She had wanted to be the belle of the ball, the crowning jewel to put even the royals to shame, and so she remained.

 

Some force continued her body to move, to dance for what felt like eternities while she struggled to find some release. Her feet ruined and broken from sheer overuse. Had it been days? Weeks? Months?

 

How long had she been captured in this dance?

 

Would she ever find an end?

 

Dip.

 

What magic held her spellbound to the floor?

 

Swirl.

 

What demonic runes did her feet craft as they were forced through step after step of this endless waltz?

 

Step.

 

Darkness continued to creep on the edges of her vision, and yet she did not falter.

 

Turn.

 

Her pleas took a turn now, no longer seeking assistance, but release. That one of her partners would hold her long enough to change the pattern. That one of the onlookers would see her pain and grant her mercy. That the spell caster would stop enthralling her and allow her to collapse.

 

Dip, Swirl, Step, Turn.

 

The dance had been a wonderful affair, with gaily dress dancers and festive music. Everything she had ever dreamed of growing up.

 

But as the darkness in her vision grew and grew, she had come to realize that not all dreams were nice.

 

The dark, humorless laughter of her final partner reminded her as crimson skin nearly burned her to the core, sometimes dreams turn into nightmares.

 

And still the dance goes on.

 

Dip, Swirl, Step, Turn.


	2. Emperor's New Clothes

My song was [Emperor's New Clothes](https://youtu.be/7qFF2v8VsaA) by Panic! At The Disco  
  
Logo-Comics chose [Funeral March](https://youtu.be/kyFyAqLtHq8) by Chopin. [Story here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39695721#workskin)

* * *

 

“You thought to take my kingdom from me,” a chill voice whispered into the darkness surrounding the bed King Roderic was sleeping upon. Instantly his eyes snapped open, waking from his slumber to seek out the familiar visage he knew like the back of his hand.

 

Outlined against the moonlight, there stood a feminine form that had his heart leaping into his throat. “Impossible…”

 

“Oh, I assure you, I am here, and very much real,” the voice stated while the head turned towards him, eyes almost glowing with a faint green light in the dimness, while the teeth in the mouth were almost echoes of the moon’s borrowed glory. “Tell me dear brother, how does one sleep on a bed stolen from its rightful owner?”

 

Rolling free of the blankets and sheets, he reached for a sword on the wall, ignoring that it was meant for decoration before leveling it at the woman that was stalking towards him while letting out a grim mirthless chuckle. “Oh, how quaint, always with might with you, isn’t it?”

 

He watched as she stopped just a few steps outside of striking distance before waving a hand and the fireplace ignited with a roaring white flames. His elder sister stood before him, emerald eyes flickering in the firelight, the smile on her face steady and teasing. “Much better, let us see one another properly, dear Brother.”

 

“You are no sister of mine, but a foul mockery, I know exactly what you are,” he snapped finally, his eyes growing hard as he focused on her the blade at the ready.

 

There were many reactions he had expected, but her letting out a humorless laugh and shaking her head as she sat demurely upon the end of his bed was not one of them. “Oh, it’s so cute that you think that blade could harm me. Let us be civil about this Brother Dear, I am not here for the crown or the throne. Nor even for something so petty as revenge on you trying to kill me.”

 

Not shifting a inch, he watched her turn towards him, her eyes bright with power and some hidden mischief. “No, what I am here for is simply to advise you to not try and take anything else of mine. I will not be so gracious again,” she answered as a sickening sound of meat being torn apart, coupled with the cracking noises of bones shifting filled the air. Before his eyes horns jetted forth from her skull, covered in blood and viscera as leathery wings erupted out of her back, coating his bed in crimson. Standing up, she flexed her hand to show off the new razor sharp claws.

 

“Foul demon, I will never let you sully this land with your filth.”

 

“Funny, is that not what you said to my wife before you had her hung for treason? The last words before you led this foolish crusade against me?” she whispered, her face growing hard as scales began spreading out over her exposed face and arms. “And I am not a demon, I do not consort with that ilk… but you know what they said earned our family the throne?”

 

“Impossible…” he repeated, despite the evidence before his eyes.

 

“Is it so impossible, Dear Brother?” she whispered, her voice a dark purr of danger and malice. “You have awoken the blood long slumbering, and I have answered its siren call.”

 

The noise of the tail rustling against the ground, granting her balance as she gained an extra foot in height caused him to step back. The tales were just that, stories to entertain children, but there she was before him. A dragoness.

 

“Not a full-blood dragon, or this room would be a smoldering crater, Dear Brother,” she stated, as her feet left claw marks in the stone flooring. He noticed that she was holding her distance, though he had no doubt that she could rend him between the beats of his heart, which was now echoing in his ears.

 

“Stop calling me that! YOU ARE NOT MY SISTER! You are not Esmerelda!” he challenged as his anger attempted to cover the terror he felt bubbling in his chest.

 

“No? You wish for me to forget that you are my younger brother? The one I carried on my shoulders to sneak apples from Father’s orchard? The one that claimed the blame for the broken vase when you ran through the main hall? You wish for me to treat you like the vile worm you became?” she asked in a fell hiss, her teeth lethal daggers inside her mouth as she turned on him fully, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you want me to forget that Dear Brother?”

 

Setting his lips in a grim line, he stared her down, even as her jaw line extended into a muzzle more akin to a lizard, than a human. The growing sense of dread seemed to solidify in the pit of his stomach as they stared at each other. “Be gone from this place.”

 

“I will, but I want you to know one thing Dear Brother…” she stated as she turned towards the window, claiming the sill before turning to look back at him, her golden scales gleaming even in the faint light from the moon. “There were two monsters created when you betrayed your family. I will continue to guard the kingdom, as I did as queen… be sure that the other one does not taint the throne further with blood shed falsely.”

 

And with that, she was out the window and into the night’s sky, the fire dying as suddenly as it lit, leaving him alone with his shuddering breath.


	3. O' Death

This was the song [O' Death](https://youtu.be/n048r7wpqww) from the game Until Dawn

 

Logo-comics did the song [It's Terror Time Again](https://youtu.be/GkNask_pMKo) from Scooby Doo on Zombie Island. [Story here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39696039#workskin)

* * *

 

“Yer late,” a dry, raspy voice ground out as spindly fingers tightened against the length of wood helping to hold them upright. “I expected you days ago, old friend.”

 

The figure approaching from behind paused and regarded the hunched, aged form before them. Rail thin, but some inner sense of power told that mistaking them for frail would be the last error one would make. The stick might be supporting them, but there was more to it than just that, there was a purpose to it. The form turned slightly, and the gleaming golden eyes almost seared the figure to its core. “Forgive me, but I was detained by my superiors. They are against this, you know.”

 

“Bah! They were against many things before, and will likely be against many more before the end of things,” the raspy voice snapped before breaking off into a hissing laugh. “But that is not for me to worry about any longer.”

 

Rather than be taken aback, plump arms reached out to encircle the aged form in a warm embrace. “Nay, not if we continue from here. But I must ask once more, are you certain you wish to do this?”

 

“Aye old friend, it is long past my time to lay down my stick and pick a successor…” he answered without venom, just a sincere exhaustion. Warmth flowed into the tired body, granting him a renewed energy, that he used to shove the hugger away. “None of that now, I’m not changing my mind. I’ve picked the next to take my job, and you are to be my witness, and their guide.”

 

“As I promised, but I wished to ensure that you could finish this,” the soft voice answered as the plump arms motioned for them to start the walk. Any that gazed upon them would scarcely believe the two of them could have been in the same world, let alone together. One was hunched with age, and whip thin. The other by contrast had a straight back, thick of arm and body. “Come now, show me your chosen.”

 

“Don’t rush me,” the aged one snapped with a fond tone, golden eyes shimmering. “We approach them soon enough.”

 

“Very well,” the younger one answered, adjusting their hair behind their shoulders, and tugging their robes straight. Silence reigned between them, the comforting silence of friendship formed over years, if not longer.

 

Coming upon a small inlet, the pair met a third, a young child that was staring down at a cross sticking up from the ground with a profound amount of confusion on their face. The thicker companion stopped short as they recognized the chosen successor in an instant. “You cannot be serious Old Friend, she could barely be past five winters… she is not ready for what you ask of her.”

 

“She is ready, and saw much in the six winters she saw,” the thin one snapped back as they continued drawing closer. “Here now child, I have returned with my friend I told you of. Introduce yourself.”

 

The girl turned away from the marker, her pale golden eyes searching for the voice first, before drifting over towards the newcomer. “A pleasure to meet you, my name is Janice,” she answered in the way of children, though lacking much of the energy that youth were known for. “You’re supposed to take care of me right?”

 

The large figure swallowed the lump in their throat before approaching and kneeling next to the child, placing hefty hands on her shoulder. Silvery eyes sought some answer in golden pools, before a deep, rumbling sigh rolled out. “Aye, that I am lass, you can call me Celeste.”

 

“Ms. Celeste,” the girl answered with a small smile as she cupped the hand on her right shoulder. “He told me that you would see what I saw, and I…”

 

“You are much more than those memories child,” the large woman whispered as they bowed their head and pressed their forehead against the smaller head. “I only wish I had been here in your last moments before you passed. But he was here for you at least. Are you ready?”

 

“I am, but I don’t want to do it,” she answered with a deep frown as the spindly figure approached. “I promised him though.”

 

The old man knelt down, a tired smile on his paper thin face as he held out the stick that had been supporting him. “I believe you will do great child, just as the one that came before me felt I would do great. There is a spark inside you, one that has fled from me. But that’s because I did not listen to Celeste, please do not make my mistake. She is a good friend.”

 

“I… I will try Mister,” Janice answered as her small hands were placed on the staff, looking at it in confusion as small blossoms began forming at the top. The aged form stepped back, giving her a relieved smile.

 

“The staff has accepted you Janice, and I am more than overjoyed to see that,” the old man stated as he turned towards Celeste. “Well Old Friend, we always knew that it would end this way. Please, take me to rest.”

 

“Of course Vern,” a teary Celeste stated as her scythe formed from thin air, reaching out to tap him on the shoulder with the blunt end. As he faded, she sniffled as she claimed the one soul in all of existence she would have spared if she could have, but it had been a futile hope.

 

After all, the Angel of Death was always the end, even for the Angel of Life.


	4. Shiver My Timbers

Song [Shiver My Timbers](https://youtu.be/8WWdOjxoQro) from Muppet Treasure Island.

Logo Comics did [Supernova Girl](https://youtu.be/gTIcIzKjGjg) from Zenon: Girl of the Twenty-First Century. [Story Here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39696303#workskin)

* * *

 

“Dead men tell no tales…”

 

She had been told this since she was a babe in her mother’s arms, watching as her father left into the night. It was the last she saw him, and all she had to remember him by was a single locket and a roll of parchment. Originally she had thought it just to be a blank roll of parchment, until she left it out on her desk one night and lines of ink began to form on it.

 

It seemed that some dead men tell tales, as her father wrote in ancient letters he’d taught her, using a special ink that would only show up under the full moon. She didn’t know how that was possible, but she had learned to not question magic. Clutching the locket of obsidian crafted into a heart, she smiled as she watched the horizon far in the distance. This was freedom, this was her birthright.

 

A shout from the deck brought her attention down there to the figure waving a map. It seemed like she had to do another reading. Lifting up her cap, she waved it twice before putting her back against the mast and peering out of the crow’s nest. This was another way that her father was talking to her.

 

Lifting the locket to her lips, she whispered the activation phrase, “Etueb red Dafp ned egeiz. Tetraw barg sad, retav.” Holding her breath afterwards, she marveled as the runes that she knew now to be embedded into it lit up in response to being read off. The heart lifted up off of her hand and began to slowly spin around the bail using her necklace to keep in place as it revolved and a faint light surrounded it. The light lifted up off of the pendent and formed a heart shaped pointer of violet magic, indicating a new path to take, due starboard.

 

“Kand neleiv. Retav, tetraw barg sad,” she muttered softly before the pendent fell back into her hand and she tucked it away. She knew that inside the locket, there was a picture of her father and her laughing and enjoying a playground by their home back on the Isle of Princes, but she couldn’t stop to take a look at it now. She had to report in.

 

Snatching up a rope from the base of the nest, she unfurled it over the edge before tugging on her gloves to ensure they were in place. Then she followed it over, and slid down the rope, letting it slip past her fingers at a controlled rate. Mere seconds later, her boots were on the deck, and she was walking towards the helm where the navigator awaited with the captain.

 

Giving the captain a cheeky grin, she was greeted by a scowl. “I really wish you would stop doing that ‘Rina,” she stated firmly while the navigator unfurled the map. The rest of the crew went about their business as this was a fairly regular occurrence. “What course does it say?”

 

Ignoring the first part, Marina turned towards the Map and found where their ship was currently. With just an expediting bit of help from the Navigator, she frowned in thought. “It is to the starboard Cap’n, and if I’m reading this map right…”

 

“The Heart of the Sea,” the captain muttered picking up on what she saw instantly. “Of course that’s where it would be.”

 

“My money would be somewhere around the Straits of Davy Jones,” Marina answered, getting a hiss from the Navigator, who adjusted her glasses and pulled out a marker to draw a path as straight as a razor’s edge from their current location, ninety degrees starboard. The Lady of Fortune was a good ship, but the area known as The Heart of the Sea was a nightmare for any but the most foolhardy. It was rumored that only three ships in history had ever gone into the heart and came out again.

 

“Yes, it sounds like what Ol’ Whiskers would use to hide it,” the Captain agreed with a frown as she adjusted the cutlass on her hip. “Ready the crew, we sail at once.”

 

“Of course Cap’n,” Marina answered as the navigator rolled up the map and made to assure of the course before giving it to the Captain and her chosen pilots. Before Marina was able to make good on the orders, she felt a calloused hand land on her shoulder, drawing her attention back to the Captain, who had a small, soft smile on her face.

 

“You’re doing good lass, we’d be lost without you. Just keep up your spell practice after your shift in the nest, alright? We might need your power before this is over, alright ‘Rina?”

 

“Yes Mom,” she groaned as her mother, the famous Captain Scarlet Cutlass continued treating her like a child, even out here on the open seas. The slightly childish antics seemed to amuse her, as she heard a fond chuckle before the hand clapped her twice and left her shoulder. Taking the dismissal, she began to go inform the rest of the crew of the change in course.

 

They weren’t looking for her Father, but the treasure he left behind after abandoning them on land?

 

Well now, that was just fair game.


	5. Hellfire

This was done to [Hellfire](https://youtu.be/9Gs0p_Dcbzc) from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

 

Logo-Comics did [Are You In or Out](https://youtu.be/9g-6RkMpknQ) from Aladdin and the King of Thieves. [Story Here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39696423#workskin)

* * *

 

“There she is again,” a soft voice whispered into her ear, causing bespectacled brown eyes to lift up off of the page to peer across the hall to see the raven haired beauty walking along. Thankfully, her lack of friends meant that her slip of focus was ignored and she was able to hide away in her studies once more.

 

“You should talk with her,” the voice whispered again, sending a tingling fire across her skin, making it hard to resist standing up to do just that, but she found it inside her to resist.

 

She wasn’t like the others, wanting to shine by reflection from the intense, beautiful, charming, and wonderful celebrity of the school’s drama club. She wanted to just live her own quiet life, and ignore the desire to be held in those long and slender arms, to feel the sun kissed skin searing her through her flesh and bones, dragging her very soul into a hell borne of lustful thoughts.

 

It wasn’t fair, really, if she was being honest with herself. She hadn’t had any of these thoughts before that girl arrived in their freshman year, and then was just there in every class through high school. Later, when she thought to be free of her with going to college, she found herself staring across the hall at shining green eyes, dazzling smile, and open invitation to come visit if she was feeling homesick.

 

That was nearly a year ago, and still the siren song was tempting her to cross the hall and relieve far more than a longing for the comforts of a life in a small town on the other side of the country. A year of knowing every time she was in the area, simply because her voice would drift over on the breeze and tickle her ear. The same voice that was whispering in her ear right now.

 

“She’s so friendly, and you are so very cold… why not just let her in a little bit?”

 

Because that little bit would be the crack of doom, shattering her resolve and making her do things that she dared not admit to any but a priest in the sacred act of confession. It wasn’t her fault, the priest had informed her. The temptation was strong, but the power of her faith was strong. That strength only held the emotions at bay, so long as she remained vigilant against any signs of weakness.

 

Thus, she had to be cold. She had to give the eternal source of light in her life a frosty, ice queen exterior, when all she wanted was to succumb to the pleasures of the flesh and embrace the impure love she felt. She had to protect her from the evil thoughts within her thoughts.

 

“What if she wanted the same?” the voice whispered, latching onto the darkest dreams she had long thought buried under the force of will. The priest had told her that those dreams were just temptations of the devil, and that she shouldn’t give in to them. She had to pay the penance of her impurity, her weakness that invited the devil in to play with her heart, so that she might enjoy the eternal paradise that awaited her.

 

It wasn’t her fault that she was beautiful, with onyx hair that gleamed in the sunlight, emerald eyes that twinkled with life, beautiful tanned skin that hugged strong and tender muscles that could hold someone in just such a way as to make them forget the world and live in the moment of being held forever.

 

Yes, it had been five years since she had learned that last one.

 

She had been leaving the library and missed a step. Her fall to the landing far below was stopped by warm tenderness, and emerald eyes shining with concern, and a melodious voice asking if she was alright. She owed this woman, this seeming angel her very life, and so the suffering she faced now for her immortal soul was but a pittance compared to what she would have done for her.

 

It was her penance, not the beautiful woman that had stolen her heart with a single act of kindness, and she needed to keep true to it.

 

“Confess to her, let her help absolve you of your sins,” the voice offered softly, actually causing her to pause, and flicker her eyes up to see the emerald eyes of her savior gazing in her direction as someone else in their class told a story or something. The tingling of her skin flared up into a raging inferno as she realized those green eyes weren’t looking past her, or even just in her general direction, they were locked squarely on her.

 

Beautiful lips, tempting in their beauty and wickedness curled upwards as the roaring inferno threatened to claim her entire being and possibly most of the room with her, but she forced her eyes back down to the paper she was studying. She couldn’t tell her, not now, not ever. The angel didn’t deserve to be tainted by such a topic.

 

This hellfire was her suffering to bear, because she was tempted by sin, and the priest had told her that she would overcome it someday. She couldn’t blame her for being a witch like the priest had suggested, but she could use her faith to ensure that even if she was under her spell, she wasn’t going to make her suffer as well.

 

Reaching up, she placed a thumb against her cross pendant, and said a prayer under her breath, asking for the strength to not let her impure nature win the day, to not allow her to taint the woman that had saved her life with her foul, foolish, and perverse thoughts.

 

The faint ringing of the bell brought her out of her reflective thoughts to find the teacher writing her name on the board for a partner project, only to be followed by the one name she could have wished and prayed for it to not be.

 

“So, looks like we get to work together finally, huh?” the voice of an angel stated from her left, causing her to look into the shining green eyes of her long-time crush. Oh, she was going to have to go to confession this weekend, if the hellfire in her skin didn’t claim her for the devil before then.

 

“Y-yeah… I g-guess so…” she stammered out, wincing at the bemused smile that shone upon her across the distance.

 

She was doomed to fall.


	6. Friend Like Me

This is a sequel of Hellfire, set to the song [Friend Like Me](https://youtu.be/99Op1TaXmCw) from Aladdin.

 

Logo-Comics did [Out There](https://youtu.be/ZxFD7Tk8Kps) from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. [Story Here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39696543#workskin)

* * *

 

“You have never had a friend like me,” she whispered into her ear, long and slender fingers tracing along her jawline, brushing her short cropped brown hair back behind her ears. Mischief twinkled in sapphire blue eyes as she pulled back, waving those hands to the impressive expanse of an entry hall she walked through as though she owned it.

 

Probably helped that she did actually own it, but that was getting off topic. Swallowing a lump in her throat, the brunette reached up to the cross she wore, fighting against the rising envy for the amount of wealth on display before her. “Come in my friend, and let’s talk,” the prim and proper voice stated as the rich girl strode towards a side room, where a butler opened the door before bowing as she passed.

 

Scrambling to follow after her, the poor brunette found herself ushered into a sitting area that was more spacious than her entire house, and likely decorated with furniture worth more than it as well. “You and Jasmine seem to be getting very cozy,” the heiress stated as she settled into a chaise lounge, smiling as she plucked a piece of fruit up out of a bowl sitting there. With a wave of her perfectly manicured, cream-white hand, she indicated a nearly identical lounge for her to settle into. “I know that the others at school are talking about it. A mousey little nerd, winning the attention of the queen of the school, and a childhood friend too? Oh my this is straight out of some cliche romance novel, if it wasn’t for one thing.”

 

This caused her to look up in surprise, her brown eyes shining in confusion. What was she talking about? The others talked about her? But she was just Marina. She was a smart young woman, but not the top of her classes. She tried to let others have their turn with Jasmine first, and not dominate her time. She was the darling of the school, so it was only right that she share her affection, especially since if she allowed herself to enjoy it, she would drown in her lust for it, and the greed would burn her soul.

 

But still Jasmine found time to be with her everyday, even after their project had ended last week. She would come over after class and they would sit in Marina’s dorm room working on their homework and talking about their old hometown.

 

But that was as far as she would allow her sinful desires to slip, even forcing the door to the dorm to remain open to remove temptation and allow others to help prevent her debauchery. “That… that right there is what I’m talking about,” the heiress mused as she watched the girl slowly entering a swirling vortex of emotions. “Whenever you think about her, you have this clear look of love b-”

 

“I do not love her! That’s… it’s improper, and even if I did, I wouldn’t bring her immortal soul down with mine,” she protested, slapping a hand over her mouth as she realized just how close to confessing her true feelings she was. Taking a slow breath through her nose, she watched as the girl lowered the fruit, a look of surprise on her face, that slowly curled into a smile. Forcing her hand down, she tried to find some source of calm, but only the emotional turmoil she always had when thinking about Jasmine, and how she was damning herself to Hell for being the way she was.

 

The smile faltered before her, before the rich girl stood up and walked the few steps between them with a concerned look on her face. Suddenly she found a soft cloth wiping at the corner of her eyes, drying tears she hadn’t realized were forming there. “I told you Marina, you have never had a friend like me, and I meant it. I am here to help you, I’m in your corner, and all I ask is that you let me help. I know this might seem… odd… but you are the first to stand up to me.”

 

“I… what?” Marina asked, trying to figure out how she had stood up to the girl.

 

“Most people at our school see my wealth, my power, and my influence, but none see me. None until you refused me three times before the first bell of Freshman year, and I’ve been waiting to see how I could approach you.”

 

That started tickling a vague memory of the girl before her. An offer to pay her for holding the door when they were walking into the school refused, a lavish breakfast declined due to nerves, and a request to loan her a copy of notes that she didn’t feel were complete enough. “Though the last one you did offer to study with me later,” the rich girl mused as she settled in next to Marina, “I’m sorry I reacted so badly at that, but I was a bit miffed.”

 

“Then from that, you…”

 

“Decided I was going to watch you, to find out what made you tick, and I noticed how you felt about Jasmine,” she confirmed with a devilish smile on her face. “I saw, but I did not force anything. You were not ready, and to be honest neither was Jasmine.”

 

There was that familiar hellfire burning across her skin as she realized how near the temptation to give in was. “Thank you for the offer Miss Washin-”

 

“Desmona,” the princess cut in while flipping her blonde hair past her shoulders. “And I just want to be your friend. Nothing more.”

 

“If… if you want to be my friend, I suppose that would be alright,” Marina agreed as she curled up on herself slightly.

 

Desmona smiled brightly at that, her eyes sparkling for a moment before she pulled herself together and seemed to have some form of control returned to her. “Thank you Marina, it will be wonderful to have a friend. Now, I noticed that you’re somewhat religious, but I never saw you going to the church just off campus, why is that?”

 

“Oh, I… wasn’t sure on the denomination, and didn’t want to offend Him by going to the wrong place,” she answered, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation.

 

Desmona seemed stunned for a moment before shaking her head and patting Marina lightly on the forearm. “You just had to ask, I’m sure your pastor in your old hometown could have pointed you to a good church, but I think that you might just ask the local churches, I can even walk with you. I’ve always been curious about religion, but never had anyone to talk about them with. If that wouldn’t trouble you that is.”

 

“No… no trouble, but I might be biased.”

 

“That’s fine,” Desmona agreed as she let out a laugh. “It seems I was only partially right, I never had a friend like you either.”


	7. Through Heaven's Eyes

The third installment of the story started in Hellfire, continued into Friend Like Me, and now we have [Through Heaven's Eyes](https://youtu.be/bHU7oPA-l1E) from The Prince of Egypt.

This is the first of two updates this week, Logo-Comics wrote to [Somewhere Out There](https://youtu.be/RkI-B2JWSZI) from An American Tail (the closing credits version). [His Story.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39696678#workskin)

* * *

 

The door closing behind her seemed to echo in the empty narthex of the church she had finally taken the chance on entering. It was certainly a modern take on church designs, with tasteful paintings of religious figures on the walls, and a fairly large tapestry of the Nativity sitting directly opposite the entry way. There was some modest decorations for Christmas bringing warmth to the otherwise empty entry hall, inviting her in. Looking around, she found that she wasn’t alone, for just a few steps away, a kindly old man in a black shirt sat watching her.

 

Smiling, she turned to him and approached cautiously, relaxing when he moved enough that she could see his white collar showing that he was indeed the priest of this church. “Welcome child,” he offered in a warm and deep voice as he stood and offered a hand. “I am Father Mayhew, and I invite you to feel at peace here in the Church of the Holy Family.”

 

“Thank you Father, I- I wanted to talk with you about something, and maybe ask more about the Church here. I fear I have not given my spiritual studies as much focus as I should like, and I hope that perhaps I may attend here while in class at the college,” Marina offered as she took his hand and allowed herself to be guided to a chair next to where he had been seemingly waiting for her. “I attended St. Mary’s back home, which is Roman Catholic. Would it be alright for me to be here, or would you recommend elsewhere?”

 

The warm chuckle and twinkle to his eye were not what she might have expected as he reclaimed his seat. “Even if you not of Jesus’s flock, I would never turn away one lost at such a young age. Not without at least attempting to help her as best I could. We are Roman Catholic as well child, though I must admit not many from the college come here.”

 

“Thank you Father,” she offered with a honest smile on her face as she folded her hands and studied them intently. “I wish that was the only reason for my coming. Is the Confessional available Father?”

 

This stopped the priest cold, his eyes seeking her before reaching out and patting her on the hands. “It is always open to those with burdens to confess, and a secret held between us and the Father himself, who sees in secret. Come.”

 

With that, he stood up, and beckoned her to follow, heading for a pair of small rooms off of the Narthex with solid looking wooden doors set barely a foot apart. Motioning for her to enter one, he flipped a placard to read that Confession was in session and they were not to be disturbed before entering his own side.

 

Dipping her hand in a font of holy water, she quickly performed the Sign of the Cross before entering and finding it a pleasant little room with a kneeler in front of a fabric cloth screen. The one back home had been a cold room that looked to have once been a cellar of some sort, but this was warm and inviting like the rest of the church had been. Kneeling before the fabric, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Forgive me Father, it has been nearly a year and six months since my last confession, and I fear I have slipped into a bad habit of mine in that absence.”

 

“Working to improve oneself is never an easy path My Child, but so long as you continue doing so, the Lord knows your heart is in the right place,” the priest answered kindly, making her smile a bit to herself. Perhaps she wasn’t beyond God’s love. “Continue Child.”

 

“Yes Father, since I moved here in last summer, I fear I have fallen into lustful thoughts of another, and though I have never acted upon them, I have been sorely tested. Especially since I was partnered with her in a class last year and we became friends,” she began explaining, seizing up at the unintentional confession of the core of the problem. She hadn’t intended to confess that bit so early with a new priest, but instead of condemnation, she heard a soft hum of thought. Feeling some sort of impulse, she decided to continue confessing everything, “I… She was a classmate of mine before we started attending college here, and I began to feel an attraction to her before high school. I know that the Bible condemns such relationships, and have worked hard to protect her soul from the corruption by my impure thoughts, and I… I just feel so weak when I am around her.”

 

“Child, love is not an impure thought,” the priest spoke softly, with a kindness to his voice. “While it might not be the usual method of God’s love coming through you, He is wanting you to share His love in all that you do. I sense that this is not the first you have confessed this, is it child?”

 

“No Father, before coming to college I confessed and the priest tried to help me stop feeling these sinful desires,” she answered, her eyes wet as she felt her hands trembling. “Tell me what I must do Father, how must I act?”

 

“Look not with the clouded eyes of man, but rather the clear and unfettered vision of Heaven’s Eyes. The Lord God said that Love is his gift onto man and woman,” the Priest answered softly, clearing his throat after a moment. “I have a Bible study on Sunday nights for people going through such difficulties with the doctrines of the Church, I would invite you to join us. Now, please, join me in a moment of silence to contemplate what God sends us to do with His Love upon this world.”

 

Looking at the fabric in surprise, she couldn’t find it in her to speak, but bowed her head even as a new warmth began bubbling up in her chest. She wasn’t being condemned, she wasn’t being judged, she was being told to look to God for understanding of what she was experiencing, and invited to join the Church in full.

 

She couldn’t believe how good it felt to feel that.


	8. Once Upon a December

Written to the song [Once Upon a December](https://youtu.be/XR6imPYq4_0) from Anastasia.

Logo-comics did his to [Aisling's Song (Pangur Bán)](https://youtu.be/32DM5tNeHBA) from The Secret of Kells. [Story Here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39696870#workskin)

* * *

 

It was a dream.

 

The shimmering lights of the ballroom, as stuffed teddy bears and the glimmering wings of fairies swirled in a delicate and beautiful melody as snow held its own dance outside the windows. And there she was, standing center of the ballroom, in a long and flowing golden dress with her long black hair done up and twin ringlet curls swirling down around her beautiful face with just the lightest dusting of makeup on it.

 

She was the princess of this ball, and was being sought after by all the bears and fairies. Her dance card was constantly full of partners, but there was always one that was to come right at the height of the music, cutting in as she was twirled around. His charming smile, and perfectly coiffed blonde hair almost gleaming in the dim light of the ball.

 

They would continue the dance as the room faded from sight, leaving them alone in a dusting of clouds as she was swept away by his tender touch. “You’re beautiful my dear, please let me be your most humble of servants, if but for a chance to see you smile,” he whispered into her ear, causing her to blush and let out a soft laugh as leaned against his strong and broad chest.

 

“I have no need of servants good sir,” she answered as her breath came back, a loving smile gracing her lips as she regarded him fondly before placing a chaste kiss upon his cheek, her lipstick leaving the barest of traces. “Tell me your name my prince, and we can dance a while longer.”

 

“My name is Charming, but you say the word and I shall be anything you desire,” he answered as the clouds swirled into the silver storm of snow and wind, sheltering them in a domed room with pillars and magic preventing the chill from entering their pleasant dance.

 

It was a dream.

 

She smiled as she heard the name she knew him to bear, and would hold forever in her heart. It was just like the old tales she had loved as a child. Prince Charming coming for the princess of the ball, saving her and taking her to a happily ever after, but she knew that it was not to be.

 

The song swelled, while unseen voices rang out in a wordless song. The safety and warmth of Charming’s arms encircling fed the glowing embers of her heart, stoking it ever so slightly that it might once again burn brightly. But she knew it was not to be.

 

Still she let herself be swept away with the music and the dance, feeling beautiful, loved, and desired. This may have all been a dream, but it was her dream, and she was allowed to embrace it for this moment.

 

“My beautiful princess, please tell me that I may have the honor of knowing your name, so that I can sing it to the heavens,” the Prince offered as they pulled apart slightly to spin, before drawing close once again. “Tell me it so that I may score it upon my heart and never forget it.”

 

It was a dream.

 

“My name i-” she started before a loud voice shattered the dream world and she was thrust back into a bitter and cruel reality that didn’t care for her.

 

“DIMITRI! Get up son, we are getting to your new doctor’s office,” his mother called from the front seat, a gentle hand upon his knee. Shaking his head, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes even as the pain of his name being spoken stabbed nearly physical daggers into his heart.

 

Brushing his shaggy black hair back, he turned to look at the approaching office with dread building in his chest. “Are you sure this is going to help, mom?” he asked nervously, picking idly at a spot on his jean’s knee. His mother and father had been supportive and concerned when he explained the pain he felt when they called him by his name, how it didn’t feel right to him, but he couldn’t understand why.

 

“No dear, but Dr. Granite has an excellent reputation, and it doesn’t hurt to try, does it? And we’ll be with you for what we can, but this is something for you to explore as much as understand, right?” his mother answered while his father pulled into a parking stall and cleared his throat.

 

“Now Di,” he started, using a version of his name that didn’t seem to hurt as much. “I want you to know, no matter what, we are on your side. You are our child, and we’re your parents.”

 

That brought a nervous smile to his lips, causing his eyes to mist up slightly. “Th-thank you, I just hope we can find out what’s wrong with me so we can make it better.”

 

“Honey,” his mother offered as she unbuckled, only stopped from hugging him by the fact that her seat was in the way. “There may not be anything wrong with you, but even if there is, we’ll get through this together.”

 

Dimitri nodded his head as he unbuckled and slipped out of the car, stretching his legs after the unintentional nap. When he straightened up, he found himself being greeted by a smiling man leaning against the doorframe. “You must be my two o’clock, I’m Dr. Granite, but I prefer to go by Chip, or Dr. Chip if you want the title. And before you ask, yes my parents did love me enough to give me a middle name starting with O.”

 

The laughter that his parents gave seemed a bit strained, but he felt put a little more at ease by the strange sense of humor. “Come on in, let’s talk a bit and we’ll see about getting these pains to stop for you.”

 

Feeling more confident that this was the right thing to do, Dimitri followed the doctor into the clinic and wondered if maybe, just maybe. This would not just be a dream any more.


	9. Journey to the Past

This week I did [Journey to the Past](https://youtu.be/7bCKBHvpNSg) from Anastasia.  
  
Logo-comics did [Wizards in Winter](https://youtu.be/XFLOh44P5z0) by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697005#workskin)  
  
Onto the good stuff!

* * *

 

“Go, go now!” a sharp voice ordered, snapping a young girl out of her slack jawed stare down with the swirling green and pink vortex that stood before her. Turning back to the silver haired woman giving the order she tried to find the words when a world trembling shriek rent the air. “You have to go now lass, we’ll hold the portal open for you.”

Turning to see the rest of the survivors of the end of the world, she found her eyes misting over with tears as the people that she had considered family prepared to lay down their lives to give her this chance. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she opened her mouth once more to speak, when the leader patted her on the shoulder and looked her squarely in the eyes, meeting brown eyes with her own placid blue eyes. “You’ll do fine lass, just remember what I told you. Seek out the one bearing this locket,” she reminded the young woman as she lifted the locket up from where it rested on her chest and held it before her eyes. “Show her this one and she will help you. You have all our notes on what caused this, you have to stop it. Only you can make it through the portal. If you succeed, we’ll see you again in better times.”

Before she could respond a loud explosion followed by the sounds of gunfire rent the air from the passageway leading back to the surface indicating that the monsters had arrived. Strong hands turned her around and gave her a firm shove towards the portal before she could say anything. “Go now lass, find a way to stop these demons from being freed.”

She wanted to speak, to promise that she would not fail them, but the vortex had her in its pull and was sucking her in, the rushing noise of the swirling energies preventing any noise aside from it being heard. She did however turn around just in time to see the monsters arriving. A large red brute with coal black wings surged inward knocking their barricades aside as if they were paper, and the men and women manning it with it. And then came the jibbering little savages that would swarm people and tear them apart while they were still alive, not even eating the meat but tossing it aside without a second thought.

Though she couldn’t hear it, she still felt the sudden dread that spread over the cavern, a dread she’d felt once before many years ago. One of Them were coming.

Emerald green flames lit upon the ground with each step, as a vision of lustful beauty emerged from the darkened hallway. A single sweep of a long, delicate hand and six people around her fell; thin, wispy trails of silver escaping out of their lips and swirling towards the leader. It was one of the generals, one of the first demons to emerge and unleashed the legions of the damned onto the world.

Their eyes met and she lifted her hand up to give her a salute as the vortex lifted her up off the ground and pulled her in. A smile split her lips as she watched the general letting out a muted scream of rage before trying to chase after her. It was interesting watching the demon reach out for her, only for her clawed fingers and arm to pull away in thin strips, much like the noodles that the leader had given her once. Spaghetti, she thinks it was called.

The demon used its other hand to slice off the one being sucked in, and a lick of flame sealed the wound before it was lost to her. The portal was specifically coded that only a pure human of her bloodline could pass through. But now she had to focus on her mission, she had to go into the past and save the world.

Clutching the locket in her hand, she closed her eyes and let the energies pull her along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sounds of the party next door had one blue-eyed girl up hours later than she intended, simply staring up into the infinite darkness of space. She had wanted to sleep and be ready for her morning class, but the frat boys next door must have won a game or something for an all-night kegger in the middle of the week. Either that or someone found a good price on beer kegs.

Not that she really cared, in a few weeks, she would be free of them, as they would be joining their frat house, and she would be transferred to the second year dorms. She hadn’t enrolled to join a sorority, and knew if she had, she wouldn’t have been accepted. Her interests were just to pursue her goal of becoming a doctorate student in Occult Studies, and this was one of the few colleges she could afford that offered the studies. Minoring in histories provided her a safety net that she could always be a history teacher or something.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let the exhaustion start to drag her into the realm of slumber, despite the loud and thumping music filling the air. She could almost feel it thrumming in her room, rattling her teeth.

As her teeth clacked together, she realized that it wasn’t the music she was feeling, but something actually thrumming with power in her room. Rolling off her seat, she scrambled to a corner as her closet door vanished behind a swirl of pink and green, and something started coming out.

Getting a better look, it wasn’t a thing, so much as a someone. Short cropped brown hair, skin darkened from many hours in the sun, while scars decorated her arms and face. Her clothing seemed just as battered and torn, like it had seen years of combat, and judging by some of the stains, many owners as well.

The body didn’t walk out gracefully, or really walk out at all, instead it was flung out head first onto its back into the middle of her dorm room. Staring in horror, she watched as the vortex vanished, leaving her surrounded by the endless noise of the party next door. Grabbing a bat that her father had insisted she keep by her bed at all times, she nervously reached out with one end to poke the form that had just did a nasty backflop onto the linoleum tiling of her dorm.

This was certainly not what she thought an extra-planar being should look like.

The body let out a groan of pain, before one brown eye peeked open hand going to the hilt of a blade at her hip. As the eye met hers, she could almost feel the other relaxing slightly. “Oh thank the Ley Lines it worked, you’re a human… What year is it?”

“Uh… 2017?” she offered in confusion, her eyes fixed on the woman laying out on her flooring. “Who…”

“2017? I hope three years are enough,” the scarred woman muttered as she rolled up into a sitting position, hard earned muscles straining slightly with the action. “Sorry, I’m Angel, but most call me Angie, and you are?”

“Anya,” she answered in confusion.

“Well Anya, want to help me save humanity?” Angie asked with a nervous smile and slightly worried eyes. “I’m from 2040… and let me tell you, we need to get to work.”


	10. It Feels Like Christmas

This week is [It Feels Like Christmas](https://youtu.be/WlRpGj7LWS4) from Muppet Christmas Carol.

 

Logo-Comics did [Pat a Pan](https://youtu.be/dAzNwUfWj48) by Manheim Steamroller. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697134#workskin)

* * *

 

Staring out of the dorm room windows, the cold reality of the situation settled in for Marina as the snow continued swirling and wind howled outside. Her flight had been cancelled last night, and the weather stations all said that it would likely be snowing like this for another day or so. She would never get home in time for Christmas.

 

Her parents had assured her that it was fine, and that it was better for her to be safe until they could meet. The airline had even let offered that if she was willing to not demand a flight immediately after the weather cleared, she would get first class on her next flight. But it was still heartbreaking to tell them that she couldn’t make it. She had even planned on making the trip with Jasmine, the first time she’d been home since they went off to college on the other side of the country.

 

Sighing she turned away from the window and settled into her beanbag chair Desmona insisted giving her before she left on her cruise in the Bahamas. Supposedly no dorm room was complete without a beanbag easily large enough for two to sit on. Clutching her cross from where it hung about her neck, she sent up a tiny prayer to ensure that her friends and family were safe despite the winter storms wreaking havoc across the nation.

 

Curling up on the beanbag, she closed her eyes and wondered if the storm cancelling her flight was some sort of punishment for tainting Jasmine with her love and affections. Not that she had told her that she was interested, but she had started letting herself care for the other girl a little more each day.

 

Father Mayhew had been insistent that she not hide God’s gift of love for anyone because of any reasons. And she found accepting that advice a little more each day as she saw the truth of it. To love Jasmine was natural and acceptable, even if she couldn’t tell her. She would love much like the Father did, openly and with her whole heart. But still her old priest’s harsh words and condemnation burned in the back of her mind, telling her exactly where she was going. A place where even winters would be hot and unbearable.

 

A loud howl of wind outside sent shivers up her spine as her thoughts turned thankful instead that the college dorms were staying open in this time of turbulent weather. She had heard on the news earlier that the hotels in the area were overflowing. There had been a few accidents, and some places had lost power in the storm, but there was a merciful lack of deaths reported. One little piece had even been about Holy Family working out a deal with the college that some of the homeless in town could stay at one of the dorm buildings, and even arrange for them to get some fresh and warm clothing on top of that.

 

She smiled as she remembered seeing more than one of her hand knitted scarves being shown worn by those in need. They really seemed to like them, and she was thankful that she could have helped someone like the Father would have wished.

 

A soft knocking at the door broke her from her thoughts, forcing her up from the chair and over to the entry to her room. Opening the door, she was not entirely surprised to find Jasmine standing on the other side, holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate. Fighting the growing blush, she opened the door and let her in. “Hello Jasmine, please come in,” she offered softly.

 

The dark haired girl entered, offering one of the cups to Marina after the door had been closed. “Hey, so it looks like there’s a big get together down in the commons later tonight,” Jasmine explained as she moved over to the beanbag chair and claimed it, motioning for Marina to join her. They had gotten more comfortable with each over since she’d started attending services at Holy Family, and so Marina allowed herself to settle in next to Jasmine and only blushed heavily when the athletic girl shifted so they were closer.

 

“Hey Marina, I was wondering if we could… could… umm…”

 

This caught her by surprise as Jasmine had always been confident and casual. Turning to her, she found the actress blushing just as much as her own cheeks had to be showing, barely inches away. And suddenly she found her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. “C-could what Jas?” she asked, using the nickname that the other preferred, trying to get her to relax again.

 

This oddly had the opposite effect as Jasmine let out a slight squeak before clearing her throat. When she spoke again, she seemed to have found some of her confidence again. “I was just wondering if you’d like to open gifts together tomorrow… I haven’t opened yours, and I can see mine to you on the desk over there… with the others from your parents… and I kinda miss opening them with my siblings.”

 

This brought a smile to Marina’s lips as she nodded. “I would love to. Do you want to go to that thing in the commons together too?”

 

“Yeah! I mean, I was kinda hoping that you’d be up for it. It’s supposed to go all night long, so we can open the gifts before going to bed, if you want to that is…”

 

“I believe that would be wonderful,” she agreed, as she found herself feeling more like Christmas in her heart than she had been mere moments earlier.

 

“Awesome, I hope you like my gift for you.”

 

“I will, I know it,” she answered, knowing it to be true. She would love anything that Jasmine gave her, even if it wasn’t what she wanted to ask for.

 

After all, she could be satisfied with just the love of a friend, even if she wanted more.


	11. Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

Song this week is the[ Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy](https://youtu.be/0RkSy6ElNIY) Performed by Lindsey Stirling.

Logo-Comics did [A Mad Russian's Christmas](https://youtu.be/6P9xxJ4V7no) by Trans Siberian Orchestra. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697320#workskin).

* * *

Brushing short cropped purple hair out of her face, delicate frosty white lips curled into a smile as she peeked in through the tiny opening in the doorframe at the room beyond. Slipping inside, delicate footsteps vanished as glimmering gossamer wings flittered out letting the lithe figure leave the ground and flutter over towards the massive by comparison tree in the corner of the room. Landing upon one of the branches, she paused to look herself over in one of the silver ornaments hung upon the multitude of branches before forcing herself back to task.

 

Turning back, her trail of sparkling dust from the door to where she roosted now was lightly drifting through the air, spreading to cover the floor in a shimmering of magic. Nodding at the start of her handiwork, she sprang off of the branch, swirling through the air in a dance as old as winter itself. Violet limbs reached out to flick slender fingers as the corners of the room, bringing forth light from the shadows and bringing about the magic of the season that it was so well known for.

 

Landing on the windowsill, she let out a quiet laugh at the white snow drifting lazily through the air, almost slowing to a crawl like time itself had taken to ignoring them for the moment. It was her time to play, and thus she did.

 

Long ago, she remembered that entire families of fairies would bring about magic to homes keeping warm with the love of the people within, but in recent years, she couldn’t remember seeing so much as her own sister, let alone the swarms of dancers to illuminate and entrance those that dared to creep down the stairs upon this holiday season.

 

Landing on the counter, she rested as she watched the magic of her trails spreading through the room, causing her to smile once again, before she took off again, up towards the rafters where garland encircled the beams holding up the roof. The humans had gone all out it seemed to decorate this year, and she wanted to return their spirit.

 

Traipsing through the rafters, leaping from beam to beam, she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill as she continued coating the room in the magic she and her kind were blessed with sharing.

 

Landing upon the mantle, she paused to look at a new feature she hadn’t noticed before. It seemed that her humans had brought a tiny little farm inside, with a baby nestled in a wooden trough of hay. She had seen these before, but never this close, nor with such loving detail to the figures within. They nearly looked like they could have been fairies frozen in the sight of a human, save for their painted on clothing.

 

Tilting her head, she knelt down to look closer at the scene, curious what this could mean. She had never had a chance to really explore, and now that she was inside one of the scenes, she couldn’t help but want to see it in greater detail. It was such a strange thing for humans to invite the outdoors of a barnyard inside, she had to know more about it.

 

After a moment, her curiosity dissipated, and she stood up, patting the baby on the cheeks lightly with a smile as it was center of the display, she felt it deserved a little focus of magic. That and babies were notoriously the only humans that never had a problem seeing fairies, and she wanted to honor even this fake one.

 

Once more she paused and gave her handiwork an inspection, everything had a subtle hum of magic to it, one to add to the thrill of the season she hoped. Finally she drifted over to a small table she had purposefully left for last. Picking up one of the offerings the humans left for the fairies, she took a few bites of the sweet cookie, letting out a trill of happiness. She drank of the tall glass of milk as best she was able, ensuring it didn’t spill by just hovering over it and slurping it up. Once her snack was done, half of a cookie eaten, and a good portion of the milk gone, she decided it was time to move on.

 

Turning to head back for her exit hole, she froze as lights throughout the room sprang to life, millions of tiny dots on the tree and in the rafters, bringing daylight to the formerly darkened room. Lifting her head up, she felt her heart drop as she found herself staring into the eyes of a teenage human, and she knew.

 

They still believed, and saw her.

 

Biting her lip, she gave the human a proper bow before spring off the platter and doing a backflip, racing away and up the chimney into the cold winter air. She’d been seen, and that meant that she had to leave this house and never return, but some part of her wanted to stay. Some part wanted to know more about what she had seen.

 

She always wanted to know more about that human with hair like hers.

 


	12. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Happy Holidays to you and yours everyone, I hope that it's finding you well. This week we swapped three of our favorite Christmas songs, I wrote to [God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen ](https://youtu.be/ku7ohU1IGls)by Pentatonix.

 

Logo-Comics worked with [Christmas Eve/Sarajevo](https://youtu.be/MHioIlbnS_A) by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697410#workskin).

* * *

 

“Be not afraid,” a booming voice echoed from the clearing the wary band stumbled upon as a wall of flame surrounded the area. As the warriors encircled their charges, a graceful and elegant winged figure emerged from the flames, hands pressed before the androgynous form as though in prayer. “Be not afraid, no harm shall befall you here.”

 

“Where are we?” the leader demanded as she stepped forth from the group, her spear gleaming in the firelight while her copper hair seemed to dance like fire itself.

 

The figure paused to regard her, tilting its head in consideration still several feet away. “You are in a clearing where you shall be protected this eve. I, and my legions, have watched your escape and the pursuit towards us. We shall guard you until the morn welcomes you with its warmth again. Please, let us talk more over supper. If you must know, this is the Clearing of Saint Gabriel.”

 

The leader’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, before a gasp from the group caused her to turn halfway to see what had raised the cry. There not feet away a table was set and ladened with food enough to feed all in their little band, with plenty to spare. It spoke to the terror of the children they were protecting that they did not rush the table to feed despite having been on meager fare for several nights prior, and nearly nothing at all today. Even she could feel her stomach cry out at the glorious bounty before them. Though there appeared to be no meat, the food looked filling and delicious.

 

“You are our guests this eve, please feel free to eat your fill,” the figure offered once more, as they walked over to the table and plucked a piece of fruit off of it and bite into it with no worry on their face. “This is a place of comfort and joy, eat and be merry. We shall guard you this eve, and perchance if you will on the morrow lead you to places safe from those that seek you.”

 

“You offer this freely, with no strings attached?” the warrior woman asked, feeling the groups resolve weaken with hunger and blatant food before them. The figure pursed their lips, turning to the woman once more.

 

“Nay, there is a favor I ask in return,” the figure answered in return, honest pain on its face. “Grant me this simple boon, and my legion is yours to command.”

 

The woman was about to turn the being down at that, but the thought of the children they had saved from the slave pens going hungry another night stabbed her heart more sharply than any blade could. Swallowing the refusal she felt burning in her throat, she relaxed her stance slightly and studied the figure in earnest with the fire light. “Speak the terms, and I shall deem the favor simple or not.”

 

“The terms is for our protection with our might, we ask that you do not fear us for what we may be. We are saved much the same as you humans may be, and pray only for some way to live our lives among you in peace. We were cast from one paradise, and abandoned another to seek this realm,” the figure stated, their voice the fatalistic tone of one laying their cards down as their feathered wings flared out, allowing their blackened color to be revealed at last.

 

The firelight played across the skin, casting it in a reddish hue, and revealing that on top of the wings of the fallen, they also bore the horns upon their brow to speak of their nature. “We mean you no harm, the food is a gift freely given. It is the protection the morrow on that we ask this favor for.”

 

The woman recoiled from the revealed fallen angel, demon, or what you name them. Fear for her mortal soul came surging forth, even as she knew that the creature was being honest and pure in their intentions. Her retreat was halted when a tiny hand caught her finger, and drew her attention to the youngest of the rescuees, a small boy that had not spoken a word since being freed. He looked up at her as though asking some unspoken question, to which she nodded.

 

The boy released her hand and timidly walked over to the figure, fear evident despite the sheer courage she knew that he must have to even approach another after what he had suffered through. He barely came up to the demon’s hip, and stared up at the being for a second before motioning for them to come closer.

 

The confusion on the creature’s face was echoed in the rest of the clearing even as they knelt before the child, who cupped their face in his frail hands. He turned him this way and that, before releasing him, and stepping back with a bow. When he turned back, the warrior frowned at seeing the telltale glow of magic in his eyes, before he gave a solemn nod.

 

She did not know much about the powers these slaves had, but had seen them work wonders and never betray their bearers before. It had been her submission to his examinations not long prior that had allowed the others to trust in her and her little band of mercenaries to free them. Now it seemed to be her turn to return that trust.

 

“Very well, we shall judge ye on yer actions, not on yer race,” she grumbled out, slipping into the rustic vernacular of her childhood home. “But I wish to trade one other thing before we make an accord…”

 

“What is it?” the demon asked, curiosity sparking their voice.

 

The woman doffed her cap, motioning for the others to the table as she approached and extended her hand. “Names. I am Aradythe Flamestriker, and you?”

 

“Star Mourning,” the creature responded as it took the hand in their own and shook it firmly. “And the Ethereal-kissed child?”

 

“Lucas,” the child offered, speaking for the first time since they met.


	13. Seven Crimes and Punishments

Happy New Year's Eve!

 

I hope you're all doing great out there. This week Logo Comics and I decided to expand our horizons and use songs that were not English. I chose [Seven Crimes and Punishments](https://youtu.be/48ZMa-qYebY) as performed by the Vocaloids.

 

Logo did a wonderful piece based on Nightwish's [Kuolema tekee taiteilijan](https://youtu.be/HgqOy3OCoio). [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697665#workskin).

 

See ya next year!

* * *

 

Seven figures shrouded in shadows approached a raised throne, where upon sat a man in a simple business suit. “My subjects have returned I see, and what tales must they weave today?” he mused with a deep, pleased rumble in his voice. “I set them upon a young hero that dares to challenge me, and they must have succeeded, must they not?”

 

No one answered the voice, though each of the hooded figures glanced at the others, as the silence grew, so too did a frown upon the ruler’s face. “I see… and what tales must you tell today? House Superbia, speak.”

 

The figure on the far left stepped forward, before taking a knee. As he settled down onto his knee, his head bowed in supplication, the robe vanished revealing a man in gleaming golden armor with hair to match. “House Superbia appealed to her pride my lord, we tempted to sway her quest towards more immediately lethal foes to garner more glory, or to show her that she was above the weak fools that clung to her name. Alas, she rebuked me, stating that once she had been such a person, and thus rose to defend them from you. The dangers she recognized as minor annoyances to your reign Lord, and chose to focus upon you. House Superbia admits defeat.”

 

The silence was deafening after the report, followed shortly by the horrid screams of agony as the stunningly handsome man renowned for his great deeds and dashing good looks felt his life ripped from his body, shriveling and rotting before the eyes of his compatriots as their Master punished him for his failure. His gleaming armor was reduced to rusty pans held together with string, and his muscles turned to frail and brittle leather stretched over bones. Finally, after nearly a minute, he fell silent, and collapsed to the ground.

 

“Pity, I had hopes for Superbia, but perhaps the next leader of the house will not fail me thus,” the Master stated as he stood from his chair. “And what of you House Invidia? What news comes from you?”

 

The next figure stepped forward, taking their knee before their Leader. As with the first, the shroud fell away to reveal darkened leathers, a figure that appeared to be shaped from shadows itself, save for the nearly glowing green eyes on their face. Around them, the shadows swirled to blur their form, making it impossible to tell if they were male or female, and they never responded to questions either way. When they spoke, their voice was a blur between soft and sweet, honeyed with promises of their dreams, and cold bitterness, hinting that it should be theirs already. “We have House Invidia tried to tempt her with wealth of the greatest merchants, magical weapons, and countless suitors of every type. She rejected them all. We await our punishment for failure Master.”

 

The shadows coiled, and fell away, revealing the final form of a statue, preserved for eternity in silence. “Two houses failed me, and they had great promise. And what of you House Ira, what of you and your promise?”

 

A flare of the robes, and there stood a man covered in tattoos with a greatsword across his shoulders. “We fed into her anger at what she said you have done, and tempted her to give in to cruelty towards some of your lesser subjects. She did not give in, and bested several of my finest warriors in combat when they could not take her actions any longer. The bit-”

 

He never got to finish his words as the sword he carried across his shoulders removed his head from his neck in a smooth motion before going to the Master’s hand. “Enough of that, House Acedia, report.”

 

“She had taken ill Master, and we tempted her to remain in bed and rest to regain strength after healing from the illness. But she took the advice of other healers and resumed her mission once the illness had passed, though markedly slowed. Forgive us Master, we only partially failed you, and will accept your punishment.”

 

The Master didn’t even look at the sleepy-eyed person as slumber claimed them, collapsing them to the ground in a heap. Instead he looked at the final three of his leaders. “Houses Avaritia, Gula, and Luxuria, please tell me you have had better luck.”

 

The three glanced at each other before one stepped forward, revealing a portly king strewn with gemstones and golden jewelry. “We managed to tempt her for a time with gold and payments, but she grew restless and left our sphere of influence, leaving the coin we had paid with charities we had not gained control of Mas-”

 

The excuse was cut short when the kingly figure vanished, and in its place was a single copper coin with his visage on it. Turning towards the remaining two, he watched as a wide set woman lowered her hood, and shook her head. “Not even endless banquets in her honor, nor the rarest of delicacies could tempt her pallet master. The richest of foods was the same as ash from the hearth in her mouth, though she seemed to enjoy meals cooked by families, and often took dinner with them instead of with my chefs Master.”

 

The woman could only stare in horror as her plump form began to melt away, reducing her to a rail thin form, her stomach swelling in pain as the hunger pangs grew. Eventually, she lacked even the strength to stand, and began clawing her way towards the table set with fruit for the Master, at a pace that would never allow her to claim it before she wasted away.

 

Finally, Luxuria lowered her hood, revealing a raven haired beauty with dancing emerald eyes, the robe shifted into a elegant black evening gown which clung to her form as though a second skin. “She is pure and untouched Master, and attempts to find a partner to tempt her preferences revealed that she holds none. She has no desire for any romantic or sexual partners, and our attempts are for naught.”

 

The Master snarled as the most successful of his minions reported her failure, winding back his arm to strike her physically. Just as he was swinging forward, his wrist was caught by an iron grasp. “And what do you think you’re doing to my friend?” a dark voice asked, drawing his attention to the side. There, in simple chainmail and carrying a mace that glowed with a holy light was the one that his minions had failed to sway to his service. “I’m told you were looking for me.”

 

With that the mace raced towards his face, erupting in an explosion of light at contact. The sensation of flying through the air was a new one, and the Master was certain that he did not care for it, nor did he much enjoy the eruption of pain as he slammed into the far wall.

 

When the world returned to him, the heroine was helping the head of Luxuria to her feet, though her beauty seemed diminished now. Gone was the ethereal sheen of desire all felt for her, and in its place was a simple beauty. “Are you alright Desiree?” the heroine asked as she dusted off the hand crafted dress of faded black, almost gray in color. The stitching horrible and lopsided.

 

“I’m fine Princess, thanks to you, but I told you not to follow me.”

 

“I had to, you’re my friend,” the woman stated before turning back to the Master, revealing her true anger. “I believe, we have a destined meeting to get to. Let’s be about it.”

 

The Master stood on wobbly feet, sword clenched in his hand as the words of the prophecy rang in his ear. “Yes… let’s be about it then.”


	14. Seven Crimes and Punishments ver 2

HAPPY 2018! This is the second version of the song for this week, both Logo Comics and I felt the desire to put on something for the new year, and we hope that you enjoy it. I'll forgo linking the songs this time as they were in the last chapter, but I'll still link to [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697734#workskin), which is beautiful.

Anyways, here's the other story I developed while listening to the songs Seven Crimes and Punishments.

* * *

“Welcome to you,” a sharp voice stated as the world returned to Amanda, “You must be wondering whe-”

 

“Where are my friends?!” Amanda demanded, glancing around as her last memory returned, her friends and her hanging out in her room for a sleepover as a strange tiredness came over them. “If you’ve hurt them…”

 

Her warning fell away as the voice let out a dry and bitter chuckle. “If we have, so what? You are not the vengeful type, and your forgiveness is never withheld, even from those that don’t deserve it… but we have not touched your friends, and in fact, the one that hurts them is none other than you.”

 

This caused Amanda pause as she felt her chest clench, had she really hurt her friends? No, she had done so much to save them, it wasn’t possible that she was hurting them was it? And that bit of inner conflict was loud enough for the voice to register. “Oh, they are not injured, and are grateful, for you have saved their lives, but let us let them explain things to you…”

 

The darkness was broken, as her friend Jessica was illuminated standing in front of her trophies and awards, her eyes locked on the reflection of the largest, seeming to look directly at the bound Amanda. “You stopped me from driving myself to the breaking point over the next trophy, the next medal, and returned something that they had stolen from me. I love to play the game again, because of you, and we still win,” Jessica explained before turning, with a small medal on a ribbon in her hand, Amanda’s name was bold on the surface in the bright light. The fond smile turned into a slight frown as she met Amanda’s eyes. “But you never take pride in the fact that you helped us, and it makes us feel like we are nothing to you sometimes. Like you don’t care just how much you saved us, and that hurts me. Let us praise you, let us give you our gratitude, and in return all we ask is your thanks. Please…”

 

Before Amanda could respond, the light clicked out, and to its left, Laura was sitting on a stage window, looking out it, seemingly at the ground below. “You showed me how much I had, and that others can have things without my needing to possess it in their stead. It was a hard lesson, one that kept me out of jail from my kleptomaniac ways. And for that, I’m grateful.”

 

Turning away from the window, she looked into Amanda’s eyes, tears stinging her own. “But the prison of always being thankful and never being able to give you that gratitude freely is more torment than the iron bars of a cell. You are always thankful when anyone does the least favor to you, let us repay you for your greatest to us.”

 

The darkness cut them off again before Amanda could respond, and a flair of light to her right whipped her head around as the scared face of Janet glared at her from on top of her bike. The scar that passed through her right eye, leaving the pupil inside white and milky was especially red tonight, and Amanda worried she hadn’t applied the ointment like the doctor instructed. “Know what pisses me off about you Manda?” Janet grumbled in her deep voice as she adjusted her fingerless riding gloves. “You tell me that it’s alright to be angry, and that if I take time it will pass… but you never let yourself be angry. It infuriates me that you never let yourself be angry, even when I broke your mother’s picture, you just smiled and told me that you forgive me. You didn’t scream, you didn’t yell, you just looked me in the eyes and said that it was alright.”

 

“You mother would have wanted you to be yourself, not the perfect happy little girl,” she stated as she huffed and looked away. “I’m still replacing that frame, so you better like it.”

 

The darkness waited until Janet snapped her fingers. Instead of instantly lighting up again, her bindings pulled as the floor under her turned, revolving her around to face the opposite direction. The light came up slowly, revealing Sally stretched out on a couch with a game controller in hand, while Regina was next to her with a wad of cash in her hand. “Hey girlie,” Sally drawled as she shifted so her head was in Regina’s lap. “You kept me in school by showing me how I can get my work done and still have time to goof off, and if it hadn’t been for you, I would never have met Gina either… so thanks for that.”

 

Regina smiled sweetly at Sally, reaching out to stroke her cheek fondly before looking away at Amanda’s face. “And you showed me that there was more to this world than money and wealth. Even if my family cut me off from my allowance from them, I would not trade a single second of my time with Sally for any of it. But darling, you never make time for yourself.”

 

“Yeah, and like you always give away your cash, even to people that are lying to you,” Sally picked up after a second, her eyes drifting over lazily. “Sometimes it’s alright to hold onto a little bit of cash, just for you, right? And maybe let us help you out as well… we’re your friends. Let us give what we have to share, okay?”

 

“Yes darling, and please relax once in a while, you’re wearing yourself so thin,” Regina added with worry in her eyes. “We’ve all noticed it.”

 

The light hadn’t even fully dimmed when Sally lifted her head up to kiss Regina on the lips, before a brighter light caught Amanda’s attention. Pulling her eyes away from the kiss she never dared share her secret envy, she found herself looking at mounds of baked goods and delicious meals, and the form of Jane sitting next to a picture of her family. “I always thought that if I made the right dish, if I could just have enough of some particular food, I could return my family to me. But I could never make a steak as tender as my father could grill it, could never make a cake as delicious as my mother’s, could never make a meal as satisfying as my Nana’s. The accident that claimed them from me had left me cold and barren as an empty fridge inside, and I was eating to fill it.”

 

“Then you gave me those cookies, simple sugar cookies, but it was baked with something I was lacking, and filled me more than I could have ever done on my own,” Jane explained lifting up a small plate of cookies decorated to look like the eight friends. “You showed me that food, no matter how rich is just sustenance without love put into it.”

 

“Sometimes, I wish you’d let me make you a feast, to stretch my talent by making dishes you heard of in passing, but you never ask that favor of me. And that hurts, I want to make you experience the love you’ve filled my fridge with,” Jane explained, looking up through her wide-rimmed glasses with tears in her eyes. “But you always just want simple fare, or tell me to not bother… and that hurts.”

 

The darkness returned, and with it the removal of the bindings holding her in place.

 

After a moment, a faint red light unlike the others cut through the darkness, revealing the first friend she had made upon arriving at the boarding school. Crimson red lips curled into a dominating smile as smoldering eyes locked onto her, leaving her feel bare and exposed by their intensity. “And that leaves me,” the sharp voice whispered huskily revealing itself to be her roommate Laura, wearing the exact same outfit she had when Amanda had arrived.

 

The long high heels that did amazing things for Laura’s legs clicked sharply against the hard flooring of the room they were in, the light fading from red into a soft white as gloved hands reached out to cup her chin. “I was the school slut, seducing and sleeping with everyone and anyone without a care. Teachers for favors, students for the thrill of conquest, strangers, anyone I could get into my bed. I knew the whispers, I knew the rumors, and didn’t care… but you changed something in me.”

 

“In truth I had only had maybe five people I slept with, never for any of the reasons they said, but because I truly cared for them. But you never judged me for either the rumors, nor for the truth. You did something that no one else would.”

 

“You smiled at me, and accepted me right away. You showed me ways to share my love without physical intimacy, but sometimes… sometimes I burn with a desire to press you against the wall and leave my lip marks over your body…”

 

Laura leaned in, giving Amanda a show of her slowly licking her lips before she continued speaking. “I know you are saving yourself for marriage, but I want to do things to you… things you never dreamed possible… but I am saving myself for when you’re ready. But I have to ask for a single thing now…”

 

“May I have a kiss?”

 

Amanda blinked a couple times before meekly nodding her agreement, and slowly Laura closed the distance. Her eyes focused on Amanda’s chapped lips, she could almost feel the warm breath upon them, when the darkness returned.


	15. Red Like Roses

This week's song was [Red Like Roses Part II](https://youtu.be/euuxPokAeIA) by Jeff and Casey Lee Williams from the show RWBY. I hope you're enjoying these, please leave a comment or kudos.

Logo-Comics did [Spirit Never Dies](https://youtu.be/EB92K56U1Vo) by Masterplan. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697815#workskin).

* * *

 

“Sword of my Mother, guide me this night,” a soft voice whispered into the darkness, drawing the consciousness from oblivion. Slowly shaking her head, the spectral form glanced around and froze as the tunnel formed before her. “Not a single one of those bastards that took her from me will claim another this night.”

 

There, before her in crimson armor was her daughter, her scarred jawline set in a determined grimace as she braced for the forces that echoed on their approach. She wanted to order her to run, to flee and not make the foolish sacrifice that she had made, but the voice never came to her. Reaching out, she tried to push her daughter away, trying to move her further away, but she simple passed through, to find that her daughter had cut the tunnel supports and sealed herself on this side of the rocks.

 

No, this couldn’t be, she had to do something, she had to save her daughter. This wasn’t her sacrifice to make! Not like this!

 

“Forgive me Mother, I’ll be with you soon,” the voice whispered again as she shifted her feet and the sound reached her ears. Looking down towards the source, she found crimson puddles at her daughter’s feet, tiny petals of scarlet falling with a final plinking noise. There was a large gash on her daughter’s side, and it cut through her heart more than the final blow that claimed her life.

 

Before she could dare to respond, her daughter’s attention was captured by the faint glint of metal arriving. She knew the scarred faces of most of them, but the one that stood out most was the graceful and beautiful face of their leader, the man that had led them to this trap in the first place. His voice as he spoke was drowned out as another fell voice whispered in her ear.

 

“Would you save this one?” it asked with a raspy hiss, sending a shiver down her ghostly spine. “This whelp, would you spare her, when she failed to save you?”

 

“What mother wouldn’t?” she asked, finally finding herself able to speak. Looking around with sharp eyes, honed from years of fighting, she tried to find the source of the voice.

 

A shadowed form emerged from the black blade she had wielded in many a battle, even as time around them seemed to crawl to a halt. “Indeed,” the form stated as it solidified before her, raven black wings behind her pulling in and down to form a cloak, ghastly white skin shimmering in the darkness like a beacon. “What mother would not spare her child pain and death?”

 

“The Dead Queen,” she whispered in awed horror as a circlet of crimson formed around the woman’s head, sitting just above eyes of endless night, with millions of shards of light dancing inside them.

 

The ruby lips curled into a playful, coy smile as the head tilted in consideration. “Indeed, bearer of my token, I am she.”

 

“Token?” she asked, glancing to the onyx blade that she had taken from some dead fighter years ago. “Why have you?”

 

“Now is not the time to question that my dear, now is the time to talk of deals. The path to the next world is open to you this night, but should you walk it, your daughter follows soon after,” the gatekeeper between the realm of the living and the dead explained in the same haunting ethereal voice with a faint rasping sound. “But… You can save your daughter this night, you can win this fight as my deathless knight.”

 

“And what? You just offer this freely?”

 

The dark chuckle of the woman before her as she drifted over, fingers tickling her chin teasingly sent shivers of terror down her spine. Only to be redoubled when next she spoke, “No, not freely, but my terms are not overly harsh.”

 

“State them,” she demanded with more confidence than she felt, her voice barely wavering with the mortal terror she was feeling. Something she didn’t know ghosts could feel.

 

The goddess looked bemused at this demand, almost as if she was a cat playing with a mouse before consuming it. “Oh my dear, my terms are this. My temples here are destroyed, my worship a cursed thing. I simply ask that you kill these desecrators of my temple here, and restore it to its former glory. Then I shall come and claim you once more.”

 

“And my daughter?” she asked, suspicion gnawing at her core.

 

“Free to come and go as she pleases, so long as she does not fowl my holy ground. I will even offer to not claim her as my champion, even though she bares my blade. I will not withhold my favor from her if she calls for it on her own mind, but I will not seek her out.”

 

“So long as my sacrifice saves her, I am yours.”

 

“Excellent choice my dear,” the goddess whispered before reverting to smoke and encircling her in darkness. A burning pain engulfed her as she was ripped from her rightful rest, coming back to the land of living between her daughter and the bandits. As the fired receded to embed themselves in her eyes, she found herself looking directly at the bandits as her queen issued a new command. “Kill them my dear.”

 

“With pleasure, my queen,” she answered despite herself as she flexed her hand, a blade coming to it readily as she stalked towards her prey. Death was on the prowl tonight, and she would save her daughter.


	16. Megalo Strike Back

Bit of a darker turn this week, but I hope you all enjoy it all the same. It was written to [Megalo Strike Back](https://youtu.be/WK2iZbz70sM) from Undertale, as covered by [RichaadEB](https://tmblr.co/mDpW0dVrx-XlVXT1bQRU09Q).

Logo-comics did [Man's Road](https://youtu.be/0wQ0j33bTd4) from the Last Unicorn as performed by America. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39697920#workskin).

* * *

“You have them all fooled, don’t you?” a soft, lilting voice whispered in his ear, causing him to whip around and glare at the floating form of the demonic woman with an impish grin of her face. “All pure and pious, but we both know the secret that is locked within your heart of hearts, don’t we?”

 

“I paid the price for your services, why are you still here?” he asked with a snarl as he stalked past her into his apartment, shutting the blinds just in case.

 

The teasing laugh brought back flashes of the price he had to pay, both of his parents splayed out on the floor, the concentric circles drawn from their commingled blood, and the soft sobbing noise escaping from their broken, weakened forms. It had been her entrance to the world, and he had only asked for the power to do whatever he wanted in this world.

 

He had the money, the fame, the lifestyle that only few could dream of having for their own. But he had one thing that would never let him live the life he wanted. Though none ever saw her, she would always be floating in his apartment like a lingering spectre, savoring his suffering whenever she laughed.

 

“I told you Joseph, I have to keep an eye on my investment,” she teased before another laugh escaped her lips, causing a shudder to trickle along his spine. “Never know when new evidence of your parents murders might surface and I have to protect my investment.”

 

“That was years ago, and the police have closed it as a cold case,” Joseph snarled as he flopped back into his couch and put his shoes on the polished wooden end table. Nearly two full decades ago, his family had been found dead in a fire that happened while he was ‘out of town’ camping in the woods. He hadn’t ‘found out’ until he ‘returned’ two nights after the discovery, and had dedicated his life to making the world a better place.

 

It was surprising how lucrative religion could be when used right. A few TV spots, and he was a celebrity, getting famous patrons seeking salvation that fit in with their wanten lifestyles. Who was he to turn away such lost souls when they needed his guidance? So what if it filled his bank account? Or provided him a few pleasures of the flesh that otherwise would have been barred to him.

 

The laughter cut through his musing once more, causing him to tilt his head back and look over at the demonic entity that was his current roommate. Had he known when summoning her, she wouldn’t leave him be, he would have perhaps considered another demon instead. But here he was, stuck with her.

 

“Oh don’t be that way Joseph, you know I love everything we’ve done so far,” she reminded him, licking a strangely familiar red fluid off of her clawed fingers. It appeared at will with her, and she used it often around him. After all, it was her little reminder that his ‘cost’ to her was paid for in blood, not his own, but those of thousands that have suffered in his stead.

 

“Yes… yes…” he grumbled as he rubbed his face. “Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere, anywhere, else?”

 

The stress on the clarifying word seemed to catch her attention as she floated so she would be staring down into his face with that same inhumanly-large, fang-filled grin hovering just before his face. “Oh, but where else would I be but here? We demons do make sure our deals are fulfilled after all, and you haven’t gotten everything you were promised, have you?”

 

Hadn’t he? He had his power, his fame, his wealth, there wasn’t anything that he didn’t have at his merest whim. Thinking back to the night he sacrificed his parents, he rethought about all of his demands.

 

Nothing seemed to be missing.

 

Letting out a snort, his response was cut short as his doorbell chimed that there was a package in his delivery slot. Pushing himself, he walked back over to the door to the outside and opened the slot next to it. Inside was a simple box plastered with the label of the online store he ordered many things from. Walking back to the table, he picked up a letter opener on his way past before responding. “I have everything I wanted, and more. What else could I want?”

 

“You were promised many things Joseph, as was I.”

 

“For your parents blood, you were given wealth, fame, influence, and power, yes…” she commented as she watched him slit the packing tape that was layered over the one with the label emblazoned on it with nary a care. “But that wasn’t all you asked for.”

 

“And what did I forget demoness?” he snapped as he flipped open the flaps of the top, his eyes falling on the glowing red letters before him, sitting on a lot of grey matter that caused the color to drain from his face as a beeping started and picked up pace.

 

“You wanted to be memorialized after you die, to be remembered forever,” she chirped happily as the giggle split the air, in time with the beeping. “Congrats! You’re a martyr, and my newest soul!”

 

He didn’t even get the chance to get the last word in.


	17. Pas de Duex

Song: [Pas de Deux](https://youtu.be/SCtS9Lr6D_Y) from Swan Lake Suite by Pyotr Tchaikovsky.

 

Logo-Comics chose the song [Carry on Dancing](https://youtu.be/iBn9n3q-gqU) by Savage Garden. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39698088#workskin).

* * *

 

He was here again.

 

Of course he was, he’s always here, right on time as usual. Sitting down in the seat so far across the room, and unpacking his books as though he wasn’t the sole focus of someone’s entire world. Sure, they had never actually talked, but he was here again, and that was a reassurance in and of itself.

 

He was cute, in his own sort of way. His tousled brown hair and casual demeanor was a reminder of that book they had to read last month for class. The Hobbit, yeah, that’s what he was. A hobbit, though a fairly tall one. He was soft, congenial, and seemed like the type to always make friends.

 

As the bell rang, he turned to face the front, not even sparing a glance across the way to the eyes that were peeking beyond the pages of the book in front of them. Never noticing that he was being watched and admired, just for being himself.

 

And that’s why it was so important that he was here again.

 

He was here again.

 

The quiet athlete in the back of the room, a sweetheart of the school, but shy and humble. His friends on the team always loved having him with them, but he seemed the type to prefer a quiet night alone to partying.

 

His black hair was cropped close again, probably because the season just ended and he shaved it as was his routine. And his blue eyes seemed to always be watching the room as a whole. Perhaps to see if someone needed help, like he was known to do.

 

His strong arms were really good at helping people that needed it, and his oceanic eyes always sought an opening to let that happen. Be it on the field, the court, in the classroom, or on the street. He was here again, and that meant that things were good.

 

But it was a dance, wasn’t it?

 

A dance with two people. He was here, and that meant that he didn’t know how he made the heart thunder, or the color race to cheeks with just a smile, or even the inner turmoil of the thoughts they created.

 

For he was always here in a way.

 

Always dancing in their minds, just beyond the edge of their grasps. Always teasingly close, but so far because he was here, and yet not.

 

Why should he care? How should he know how he made his heart thunder? That the reason his cheeks were flushed red was because of how amazing he was? Or that his thoughts were racing because of what he did to them?

 

It wasn’t like they were even friends.

 

He was there, and he was here.

 

That was all there was to it really.

 

He was here again.

 

The teacher stood up in front of the class droning about the lesson they had planned out, some were listening intently and taking notes. His mind wandered back a few rows, wondering if he was taking notes, if perhaps there was something he didn’t understand that he could help him out with. Some crucial part of information that he didn’t get and he could approach him to help him out.

 

Then he could be here for him. They could spend time together, learning about each other and their lessons. They could grow closer after that and become friends, and he could be happy just knowing that he was there in his life.

 

Yeah right, that was the stuff of cheap and cheesy romance movies his mother loved to watch. Where the nerdy lead could catch the attention of their perfect partner just by some twist of fate.

 

And he would be there, living the lead roll.

 

He was here again.

 

Right there in front of him, taking notes upon notes, never sparing a glance around no matter how dull the lessons became. Something about a new project to work on for the next few weeks. A part of their final grade in the class, along with an exam. Nothing big, but something he’d have to dedicate time to.

 

Maybe he’d like to work together, show that this wasn’t just some jock resting on his athletic performance to garner favor from teachers and the administration to pass his classes. Perhaps he could show off that he was intelligent and… wait, did the teacher say assigned partners? Well there goes that chance, he couldn’t be that lucky.

 

Watching as the teacher began assigning partners, he couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of urgency as both of their names continued being uncalled. What was going on? Could it be? Would he suddenly…

 

He was here.

 

Directly before him, sitting in his chair with wide blue eyes staring up at him with a strange expression as he blushed and coughed into his fist. “Hey, I guess we’re working together… I’m Damien Landon,” he offered while running a hand through his chestnut brown hair.

 

“Andrew Tanner,” he heard in response, the corners of the athlete's mouth turning upward in genuine happiness. “I saw you won the Mathletes competition last month, congrats.”

 

“Thanks,” Damien answered as his heart skipped at the news that his crush had noticed him before they had met. “I heard you won the Finals last week with a long shot basket. That’s impressive.”

 

Andrew’s laugh was soft and warm as he indicated the emptied seat, the previous owner having gone to work with their partner elsewhere in the room. “Sit down Damien, I think we are going to work out nicely together.”

 

Damien settled in, hoping that his cheeks weren’t nearly as red as he felt they were, because for the first time he could remember…

 

They were here, together.


	18. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit risque in subject matter on this one. Remember to always listen to your partner(s).

This week's song was [Hallelujah ](https://youtu.be/YrLk4vdY28Q)as performed by Leonard Cohen.

Logo-Comics did [Toy Soldiers](https://youtu.be/LvdLovAaYzM) by Martika. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39699054#workskin).

* * *

 

The feel of the hardwood digging into her back where the slats of the chair’s back pressed against her were a sharp contrast to the tender and gentle fingers on her front. Long, slow, sensual circles were rubbed on her stomach as she struggled in vain against the darkness preventing her from seeing. The sleeping mask currently covering her eyes prevented her from even catching a glimpse of whomever it had been that was on the other side. Her heart was racing as she heart something set upon the table and then felt something brush across her lips.

 

She didn’t know how she had gotten into this situation, but with a whispered command, her lips opened and what had been brushing against it was slipped inside. The rough, slightly coarse surface of the sweet, mildly acidic fruit rubbed against the surface of her tongue before the voice commanded her to chew. Obediently she ate the strawberry that had been fed to her, earning a soft coo of praise from the person on the other side.

 

Trying to move her arms, she found that they were still held firm by whatever broad bands of cloth that had been tied to hold them in place under the seat of the kitchen chair. That seemed to draw the attention and amusement of the other person, as they laughed and informed her that there was no escape for her from what was planned.

 

Swallowing the fruit, she found her head trying to turn to track the steps of the other person. Between the fridge and the table, and the over to the drawers. She knew the layout of her kitchen she could almost visualize the other person walking about as though they owned it. And the quavering of her heart made her wonder just how much they already did.

 

“C-can we stop this?” she asked softly, her voice quacking with trepidation and something else that she refused to admit. And her answer was tender, warm hands rubbing her shoulders slowly as lips came closer to her ears to whisper a response in the same husky, hungry voice.

 

She could make it stop.

 

All she had to do was sing out with a single word, and it would all end. But she knew that she would regret it if she sang out too early. The lips drifted closer and whispered again that it was her decision, and that they were going to draw the word from her. One way or another.

 

Drawing a shuddering breath, she felt the lips close the distance and kiss her softly upon the ear lobe, trailing down to her jaw, and onto her shoulder. Oh, the tingling warmth that surged through her body at that, the fire that burned with each single press of lips to flesh. She wanted more, needed more, and perhaps the slight whimpering whine that escaped her lips gave her captor the clue to just how much she desired this.

 

Biting her lip, she felt the fingers return, this time tracing the line of kisses to the crest of her shoulder before pulling away, and a new strawberry traced the line in reverse. It changed from her ears at the jawline, going towards her mouth which parted to accept it without command. The lips followed it a moment later, kissing her as the fruit entered her mouth.

 

It was a simple, chaste kiss upon the lips, but it still sent an almost electrical thrill through her body as she realized just how at the mercy of the other she was. They could do anything, and all she could do was sit here and take it.

 

No, she could do something, and all it would take is one simple word.

 

The voice asked if she had something to tell it, if she was ready to tell it the word that would set her free yet, or if she needed more. The answers swirled in her mind as her heart began racing, and her breath drew in short, ragged gasps. She wanted this, in some twisted way needed it, but something wasn’t right.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she needed to stop this. Letting out a whimper as the fingers ghosted along her shoulder, to the nape of her neck, and then up her jaw to the tip of the chin, she knew what she had to do.

 

“H-hallelujah,” she stated with a tremble to her voice that she winced inwardly at.

 

All of a sudden light returned as the sleeping mask was pulled away, and she blinked rapidly as the shuffling noise of the other moved to behind her. Before she had cleared her eyes, she felt the cloth loosen from her wrists and she could move again. Standing up, she took several steps away from the chair while forcing her breath to slow down and hug her arm to her chest.

 

“Hey, are you okay babe?” the concerned voice of her lover asked as she felt their arms encircle her carefully, a blanket slipping its warmth over her with the action.

 

Closing her eyes and counting to ten, she turned slightly and kissed her girlfriend’s worried face on the cheek before responding. “I’m fine, I just… I was starting to panic.”

 

“It’s okay. I’ll clean up, do you want to watch a movie tonight instead?”

 

That brought a smile to her face as she turned in the hug, and cuddled into her girlfriend. “Yeah, that sounds great,” she agreed as she brought the blanket around her lover as well. “Did I do better this time?”

 

“Yes, a whole three minutes longer.”

 

She could feel a swell of pride grow in her chest at that, she was improving, and soon she might even be able to do a full scene without panicking. “We’ll get there.”

 

“Just don’t force yourself,” her girlfriend pleaded as she played with her hair idly. “If you ever want to stop, we can talk about it. It’s a two-way street here.”

 

“I know love, and I’m enjoying it,” she answered as she kissed her on the nose for being so sweet. “Just as you are growing to enjoy those romantic comedies.”

 

As her girlfriend let out a moan of dismay at the embarrassing reminder, she eyes the strawberries on the table and leaned in to whisper. “Get the cream and bring the berries. What’s movies without a snack?”


	19. Kiss the Girl

Hello everyone, this is another of the ongoing struggles of Marina in her college life. I am seriously thinking of taking it and the previous updates ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), and [3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094)) and turning them into a proper stand alone story. Anyone be interested?

This week's song is [Kiss the Girl](https://youtu.be/TrRbB-qUJfY) from Disney's The Little Mermaid.

Logo-comic's choice was [Love in Any Language](https://youtu.be/JzNLUaGtaCU) by Sandi Patti. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39699159#workskin).

* * *

 

There she was again, almost within reach, but so far away. All she had to do was lean across the table and she could touch her. She was her friend now, after so many years, but Jasmine had done so much, it was selfish to wish for more. Yet, everyone she’d talked to recently was telling her that it wasn’t selfish, but natural. That her heart was beating with nothing but pure love for the drama student, but Marina couldn’t help but feel bad for wanting so much after taking as much as she had already.

 

Her eyes drifted down from Jasmine’s, taking in the smooth, nearly flawless skin of her face as she talked about the next play that she was going to audition for, and something about how fun it would be to have Marina working on it with her.

 

Her eyes paused at the glistening light red lips, smiling warmly back at her as she responded that she’d love to support her when the play opened, as she had with all the other plays, even from before they had become friends. But she wasn’t right for the stage.

 

No, that didn’t seem right, as the lips twisted downward before Jasmine spoke again. “You are beautiful Marina, and you don’t have to act if you don’t want to. But the stage would be lucky to have you.”

 

Okay, no, stop cheeks, don’t go crimson now.

 

“I… I just don’t feel like I would be good at acting, but I could help with um… maybe something backstage?” she offered, her mind racing for a way to salvage the good mood that had been shattered. “I could clean, or help with props, or something like that…”

 

“We’ll see, but will you be able to make time for it?”

 

That caused her to stop, and look down in thought, plotting out her schedule. “Maybe not, but I could try…” she offered as her eyes lifted up to see Jasmine’s shining with concern. “They have a concession stand right? I could help with that…”

 

Jasmine smiled again, her face lighting up at that suggestion. “That’s right! You could help with that, and it wouldn’t take too much of your time. You’re brilliant!”

 

Before Marina could respond, her hand was captured in Jasmine’s and she could feel the warmth flowing into her, increasing her desire to pull forward and capture Jasmine’s lips with her own. “You know what, Marina?” Jasmine asked as she leaned forward, her eyes twinkling like emeralds as a strand of black hair drifted in front of her face. “I’m glad that we got to become friends, I… I thought you hated me.”

 

Oh, that was cruel, throwing back the coldness she had thought would shield Jasmine from her sinful thoughts and inclinations. But she couldn’t tell Jasmine that, not without letting her know the truth of the entire thing. “I’m sorry, I just… I thought we were too different…”

 

“Don’t those differences mean we can keep learning new things about each other?” Jasmine asked as her lips turned up in a teasing smirk as she leaned forward across the library table. “I really hope that we can continue being friends like this, or better, for a long time to come.”

 

Oh the piercing pang of desire, that cruel and merciless arrow to spear her through her heart once more over desires forbidden and just out of reach. Was it really so terrible to desire her best friend like this? To want to do those cute couple activities that she sees others do?

 

Wait, what was that look of frustration that flashed on Jasmine’s face? Could she possibly… no that was forcing your own desires and thoughts on her. Letting her eyes drift away in the silence, she found them drifting lower. The smooth skin of the cheeks, lightly dusted with remnants of the stage makeup from her drama class earlier, the strong and defined jawline, the beautiful exposed neck, the… Nope, reverse course, abandon that line of thought before you go further. Lips. Her beautiful, lightly glossed lips.

 

Why were they so close to her?

 

When had she moved closer to Jasmine? Had it been Marina that had moved?

 

Oh, it was so tempting to lean over and kiss the girl, releasing some of the pent up pressure brewing in her heart. She could almost see them tremble before her, and as her eyes flicked up, she saw Jasmine had her eyes closed, almost as if she was inviting Marina to do whatever she wished. Taking a deep breath, she paused a moment to take everything in, imprinting it to her memory as she was about to ruin her friendship in the next moment with being stupidly selfish.

 

Closing her own eyes she moved closer again, and brought her lips nearer to their goal. She could feel Jasmine’s breath on her lips, the spiced energy building as her heart thundered in her chest as they neared.

 

And then the door slammed open to the entrance of the hall, and the hurricane of energy known as Desmona swooped in towards their table just as they sprang apart. “Marina, I just found out something amazing, and I wanted to tell you about it,” she gushed as she slipped her bag onto the table. “Oh, Jasmine, I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry, were you in the middle of a conversation?”

 

“No,” Jasmine answered as she regained her composure first, though she did have a momentary grimace of a dark emotion that made Marina worry that she had ruined something about their friendship. “I should get going, I want to hit the gym a bit before bed. See you later.”

 

With that, Jasmine left, leaving a worried Marina watching as Desmona sat down, and glanced between the two friends. “Did… What happened?”

 

“I… I almost let myself slip, you saved us just in time,” Marina confessed as she slumped down onto the table, putting her head into her arms. If she had been saved, then why did she want to scream in frustration, or just curl into a ball and cry?

 

“Oh Marina,” Desmona offered quietly as she reached out to pat Marina on the shoulder. “I screwed it up for you. I didn’t save you… be mad.”

 

“I can’t… what did you find out?” Marina asked as she looked up at the heiress with a hopeful expression, wondering if there was something she could latch onto to avoid this horrible burning desire in her body to rewind time and kiss the girl. To not take that moment hesitation, and just kiss her as the desire implored her to.

 

Desmona’s blue eyes shifted to the door that Jasmine had left through for a moment before she pulled out a flyer for an SAGA club that was looking for new members. “I… I was thinking they might help you out, but… my timing was pretty horrible…”


	20. I Know You

This week's song is [I Know You](https://youtu.be/WcEkAn-FI8M) from Disney's Sleeping Beauty. This is a side-shot of Marina's story. I hope everyoen's enjoying this. Here are the previous chapters. ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), [3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094), and [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081))

Logo-comics took [The Power of Love](https://youtu.be/P0WVWbZ9ZAY) by Within Temptation. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39700008#workskin).

* * *

 

It wasn’t any grand plans of romantic fantasy that lived in her heart, but rather millions of little moments. Waking up in the morning with her warmth enveloped in her arms, the soft hair tickling her nose. Lazy brunches while they whiled away the morning after waking up, just enjoying each other being there. The silence broken with little kisses and the noises of eating.

 

Casual strolls in the park, hands or arms linked together as they enjoyed the warmth of the day. These visions were so strong, and powerful that she could almost swear that they were real. She could almost tasted a late night pasta dinner mingled with her lips, she could almost feel the chill of the ice cream for dessert in her mouth.

 

She knew that the gleam in her eyes would be forever burned into her memory, if only because she had brought it forth once upon a dream.

 

She knew exactly who it was in the dream, and yet she couldn’t say a word of it in the waking world. Not… not after everything.

 

They had been friends for so long, and she valued that more than the dreams could ever tempt her. The late nights shared in either of their dorms, the Christmas spent together, all these little moments were turning into a fantastic dream vessel that she refused to break upon the rocks of reality.

 

She should have kissed her, tried to talk with her after Desmona had left, or she should have never tried to kiss her to begin with. Now it was out there, and she couldn’t change it. She had risked the friendship that had been built so carefully, and now she wanted to risk it again and again, just for her selfish dreams.

 

Ugh, why was being in love so hard? Was she really being a coward?

 

“Jasmine!” the sharp voice of the stage manager called, snapping her out of her bitter musings to find her standing over her with a stern expression on her face. “Jasmine, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you keep moping about like this, we’ll never get any rehearsals done.”

 

The drama student slumped further in her seat as she let out a groan of displeasure. They had a play coming up, and she couldn’t focus on a thing in it lately, not since the incident in the library. “Sorry Kiki, I just… I know the rule is to leave the outside world at the door to the theater, bu-”

 

“No buts,” Kiki stated firmly, before her face softened and she let out a sigh. Reaching up to her buzzcut brown hair, she ran her hand through it before looking away. “Look, the director called it a night, so we’re cutting it short. But… if you need to stay for a bit, I can run lines or go off book for a bit. Let the others leave first.”

 

Jasmine blinked at the offer, while Kiki waved to others as they were heading out, taking the offered early night while the stress was still low from being early in the run. She had been something of a mentor to her since Freshman year, and would do things like this occasionally if she felt that Jas needed a bit of life advice, or just some time to destress.

 

Maybe she could help her out with this as well?

 

Soon enough, they were alone, with Kiki slipping on her flannel shirt, adjusting it so her pink rainbow pin wasn’t sitting awkwardly. “What’s going on with you kiddo? Not like you to be distracted on the stage…”

 

“I-” Jasmine started before leaning forward and finding her hands suddenly fascinating. “I think I might have seriously screwed up a friendship last night.”

 

Kiki didn’t speak, letting her gather her thoughts before she spoke next. “I was studying with that friend of mine, you know the one that’s super religious and cute. The one I saved back in high school from falling down the stairs.”

 

“I remember, though you’ve never told me her name,” Kiki teased lightly, and Jasmine could hear the smirk turning her lips up at the corner. “What’d you do? Burn down a church?”

 

That broke the awkwardness enough to make Jasmine laugh while shaking her head. “No, nothing that bad. This is a more personal level of screw-up. Okay… so lately we’ve been hanging out more, which is awesome and because of your advice after that first lab. Telling me to not let her push me away again and all that, so thanks for that.”

 

“Welcome,” Kiki answered gleefully as she mock-polished her trimmed nails on the flannel.

 

“Yeah, yeah… so anyways, lately I’ve found her on my thoughts more and more, since like Christmas? You remember how we hung out for the entire storm and stuff like that? Well we kinda had a nap together, and she is a cuddler… and I kinda liked that.”

 

“Are… are you coming out to me?”

 

Jasmine froze at that, her face going blank as the pieces fell into place. “I… I think I am?”

 

“Well, congrats on figuring it out,” Kiki offered, no judgement in her voice. “Back to your story.”

 

Jasmine took a moment to try and remember where she was before speaking again. “Okay, so I was studying with her last night, and my mind kinda drifted off for a bit. I think I misread something in her eyes, and was trying to kiss her. I think, if her friend Desmona hadn’t shown up, I might have.”

 

“Nice, I want to meet her first, but she’s been a good friend so far, and that’s a good start for relationships,” Kiki advised, which in turn brought reality crashing back to the forefront of Jasmine’s mind. She must have shown the painful awkwardness of the situation as Kiki’s voice was a lot more worried in the next bit. “What… did you do after the interruption?”

 

“I ran away.”

 

The sound of a hand slapping against the face of one Stage Manager brought Jasmine’s view up to see Kiki looking objectively miserable, her eye peeking out from between fingers with a mixture of pity and something else. “Ohhhh boy kiddo, we have some work to do…”


	21. All I Ask of You

Hello everyone, this week's song is [All I Ask of You](https://youtu.be/CnptZC341nM) from the Phantom of the Opera.

 

We picked up a new writer this week, [EnberLight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EnberLight/pseuds/EnberLight) will be joining in on the fun, and I hope that you will enjoy it as much as I know I will. This week's story from her is inspired by [Sleeping Sun](https://youtu.be/ZMvkunOnkAM) from Nightwish. ([Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13732128/chapters/31550139), and [Tumblr](https://enberlight.tumblr.com/post/171039972651/the-songs-and-stories)). But let's not forget the creative brilliance of Logo Comics, who tackled [My Only Love](https://youtu.be/uVSTULWphac) from the 90's Sailor Moon. ([His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39701052#workskin))

* * *

“Hey,” a tired voice asked into thin air while a trembling hand sought through the darkness for something, “are you still there?”

 

The hand was clasped and enveloped in a tender warmth as a heavy, deep voice rumbled in response. “I am here, we’re nearly there. Just hold on a little longer.”

 

“I don’t know if I can,” Christian answered as he drew a shuddering breath. “It’s the darkness, it’s so… encompassing.”

 

“I know, but don’t think on it. Soon, you’ll see the light again, and… and we can go out on that date you always wanted Christian, please all I ask is that you hold on just a little longer.”

 

A shuddering breath as the trembling hand grew weaker, and eyes that could not see searching for something. “You promise?” he asked, the second hand lifting up off of his chest and being guided to the cheek it was searching for by a rough calloused hand. The soft, downy fluff of the beard he had so long admired soothing under his fingers. The words were calming him down, or perhaps that was something else. But he wanted to hold on for him.

 

“I promise, we’ll eat at that fancy place, and take a stroll through the book district,” he promised, and Christian could almost swear he saw the blue eyes shining with tears as the tanned face wrinkled with pain knowing the promise would be unfulfilled once again. “Just please… do this one thing I ask of you.”

 

“Lies do not become you Sir Knight,” Christian teased before a cough wracked his body. He knew that warmth rolling down his cheek was a bright crimson hue, and when he felt the surprising gentleness of his friend’s hand, it settled the weight on his stomach. “Bu-but go on… tell me of this date.”

 

The heavy breath from the other person under his fingers spoke volumes as the shuddering voice spoke again, barely covering the creaking of the wagon they were travelling on. “As soon as the clerics clear you, we will spend the day out and about in the city. Morning sunrise walking along the river you meditate by. The one you always tell me dances with sunlight.”

 

“I remember,” Christian answered, his mind grasping at the image of the water dancing before him. Perhaps if he hadn’t spent so long watching the water, and more time practicing: but that was something that past him should have thought about. It was too late to change that now.

 

Fat droplets of warm water splashed down on his cheeks, making him laugh softly. “Come on now, what after the walk?”

 

“Brunch at that little bakery you love, with the warm rolls fresh from the ovens and plenty of honey dripping from them,” the knight offered softly, his voice breaking with pain and regret. “We can even try those clotted creams you always tell me I’ll love. I’ll take a break from my diet for the day.”

 

Oh, that was such a beautiful image, one that Christian could barely hold onto as ice began to spread through his body. “You’ll love them, I know you will, probably eat them like a kid at a fair; by the bucketload.”

 

“I’m sure I will, if you are there with me,” the heavy voice answered as the grip on Christian’s hands tightened. “And-” he started before cutting off with a choke. “And then we will find that bookstore you told me about yesterday, the one with the sword techniques I wanted to learn in it. Maybe we can find something you’ll like, too… If you haven’t cleaned them out already.”

 

“I did leave something there for next time,” Christian mused softly as he felt the pain of realizing there was likely not going to be a next time. “And then what Sir Reginald?”

 

“And then we go to that show we like, you know the one? I heard that they had a new act coming out,” the knight answered, his voice growing distant, though he wasn’t pulling away. “We can sit and enjoy that, before going to that eatery you heard about… a little early dinner right?”

 

“R-right,” Christian wheezed out as he found a new thought burning in him. “And then what?”

 

“A-And then, the stars should just about be coming out this time of year… we can go to the observatory park, and you can tell me their tales. If you want… I always enjoyed hearing you talk of that.”

 

“I… I have something to ask of you, it’s all I’ll ask of you…”

 

“Anything, just hold on a little longer Christian.”

 

His hand slipped from the cheek, curling around the thick neck of his long-time crush. Getting closer to the ears, he whispered out, “Don’t let anyone else die to Black Helm… please…”

 

As he fell back to the wagon bed, his unseeing eyes drifted shut. He never heard the response as the little spark of magic in his chest was extinguished forever. Gone was Christian the Mage, and he never heard Sir Reginald’s final promise.

 

Sir Reginald bowed over the stilled form of his friend, cradling it in his arms as he felt the growing chill claiming his body. He had promised that it would be as he said, Black Helm would never kill another person again.

 

Kinda hard, when Christian had killed him with a point blank spell that had left only pieces of the fearsome warlord, and struck a mortal blow to the mage in the process. Now that the looming threat was gone, Reginald had always intended to at least trying to be what his friend needed.

 

But he could never do that now.


	22. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Song: [_Somwhere Over the Rainbow_](https://youtu.be/V1bFr2SWP1I) by Isreal "IZ" Kamakawiwo'ole.

 

Logo-Comics did [Radioactive](https://youtu.be/iO_WxYC34eM) by Imagine Dragons. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39701385#workskin).  
Enberight also wrote for the song [Radioactive](https://youtu.be/iO_WxYC34eM) by Imagine Dragons. Her links for [Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13732128/chapters/31740219), and [tumblr](https://enberlight.tumblr.com/post/171298184721/the-songs-and-stories).

* * *

 

Glancing up towards the rainbow, a face turned from a peaceful grin to a pained frown as the memories come flooding into her mind. Somewhere beyond that rainbow was something greater than the world could imagine. Most would find rainbows a beautiful and peaceful sight, but to one such as her, it was only a painful remember.

 

There had been a rainbow when her love had left her, leaving her alone in this cold and cruel world. It wasn’t fair, that she was somewhere over the rainbow, and she couldn’t join her. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh before turning away and continuing towards her destination. Someday she hoped to be with her once again, but she couldn’t do that now.

 

Wiping the moisture from her eyes, she found herself walking beside the last place she had seen her love. The church was beautiful and ornate, a relic of an ostentatious time. Running her hand over the heavy wooden door with its silver inlay, she wondered if this pain was a curse that she would bear for eternity. There was just so much that she wished they could have done, but now…

 

Now it was too late wasn’t it?

 

It had been her fault, being too young and foolish. Thinking they had all the time in the world. That was before they stood outside of this very church and she was given the news. She was going beyond the rainbow.

 

At first, the lost girl hadn’t realized what she’d meant, but as the words settled in, she came to understand. This was goodbye.

 

Clenching her fingers into a fist she slammed it against the door, listening to the hollow echo from inside as she thought about it. The pain grounded her enough to keep her from letting out a tormented scream of pain. Leaning against the engraved marble column, she felt her knees giving out as she slipped down and curl into a ball, fighting the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. It wasn’t FAIR!

 

Why couldn’t she have gone instead? Why was she the one doomed to feel this way?

 

Sniffling, she remembered the day in full, unable to stop her mind from playing it out in perfect clarity. They had just finished a sunrise walk by the lake, when they stopped before this very church and Gloria had spoken up.

 

“Seraphina, there’s… I have something I must tell you,” she stated with a heavy voice as she fought against looking her in the eyes. “We have been dating for a few years now, and in that time I have never felt more blessed.”

 

Sera’s heart clenched at the use of her full name, and the formality of Gloria’s word choice. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she reached out and cupped the other woman’s cheek in her hand and coaxed her gently to look her in the eyes. Piercing blue eyes stared at her with a pained and panicked expression. “If you have been blessed, then I can only imagine me being doubly so… anything you have to say, I will listen.”

 

“I know, and I love you,” she answered while those eyes filled with tears. “I got the news a few weeks ago. I’m going to Heaven.”

 

Time froze in that instant as the world shattered around them. Or perhaps that was just her heart, as the love of her life told her she was leaving her for the realm beyond the rainbow. She couldn’t believe it.

 

Turning away, she had said something she couldn’t take back now, and ran. She had ran as fast as her legs could take her, and locked herself away to cry in her room.

 

The sounds of rustling wings broke her from her memories, enough to see bluebirds flitting away from the roof of the church. Oh how she wished she could fly like them, why couldn’t she? It wasn’t fair.

 

Putting her head back down, she ignored the next set of wings, or the sound of footsteps. She just wanted to wallow in her misery, and the noises weren’t important. When a hand landed on her shoulder, she snapped out a rude “Leave me alone.”

 

The answering voice saying, “I think I have done that enough Sera.” broke her from her funk and caused her head to whip up, just barely missing smacking into the pillar by being captured in tender fingers to cushion the blow. Ethereal blue, much like the sky beyond the rainbow shone down at her from above, and a warm smile drove off the chill of loneliness with its simple promise of welcome.

 

Three years had been an eternity to her, but right now it had been naught by a long nightmare driven away by the returning sun. “I’m back?” she offered with a nervous smile as she knelt before the woman, her gleaming white wings enshrouding them. Shielded from the world, the angel reached up to wipe away the tears that had rolled down Sera’s cheeks. “I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m not leaving you again.”

 

“R-really?” Sera asked, not fully believing it.

 

“Father himself has promised that I can stay so long as I do one little thing…” she began, kneeling fully on one knee and pulling something from a pocket on her outfit. It was a tiny black box, that she opened to reveal a plain silver band with angelic script engraved on the inside surface. “I am to give you this, and promise before him and those you care to name, to love you forever, until death do us part. Will you accept?”


	23. With a Flair

Hey everyone! This week I got to work with a song from one of my favorite comfort films Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Namely the song ['With a Flair'](https://youtu.be/dv9yIAzhtd0). Another side-shot of the ongoing suffering of Marina. Here are the previous chapters. ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), [3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094), [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081) and [5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31350669))

Logo did a wonderful pieces to [Tell Me Lies](https://youtu.be/xVD28UpY3fA) from Cats Don't Dance. ([His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39701517#workskin))

Enber wasn't feeling the greatest, but she has told me she was looking to do a story to [On My Father's Wings](https://youtu.be/KSHfHAgGQvQ) from Quest for Camelot. (Ao3 and Tumblr links will be updated when available.)

* * *

 

“Kid, we have a lot of work to do…” Kiki groaned as she looked at the girl sitting down in front of her. Jasmine at least had the good graces to look embarrassed and contrite. How it had came to this point, she didn’t even want to guess.

 

“Look Kiki, I appreciate it, but I-”

 

“No,” the stage manager cut her off with a dead panned glare. “You need help.”

 

Jasmine seemed about ready to argue back that she had it under control, but thinking back to the past several eternities she had spent suffering since realizing her crush for the religious Marina, she stilled and slumped forward. “I guess… it couldn’t be worse than what I’ve done so far. If she even wants to be my friend anymore.”

 

Getting up, the stage manager paced the aisle before the stage with a grin. “I think that she will overlook this one time, but to improve your chances… I think it’s time to go all out.”

 

Springing up onto the stage, Kiki gave her a laugh as she winked. “I think it’s time for you to go on the offensive in this little dance of yours. You did good with going for the kiss, but you need to work your magic on her with some seduction and a dash of flair.”

 

“But I’m not… I don’t know how to be seductive,” Jasmine protested weakly as Kiki locked her with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Could we maybe talk about this somewhere else? Like not in a place others can walk into?”

 

Kiki paused a moment before sighing and running a hand through her trimmed hair and getting off of the stage. “Fine, but while we’re on the way there, let’s talk about this girl of yours. Marina. I need to know what you love about her, and who she is if we’re going to have her putty in your hands. And then I have several instructional videos for you to watch…”

 

The tone she stated instructional with told Jasmine that she was most likely going to have to clean her hard drive afterwards. But instead she picked up her gear and walked out with Kiki guiding the way, drilling her on everything about Marina.

 

Several blocks later, she was a blushing mess, while Kiki just smiled like a cat that ate a cream filled canary wrapped in tuna. “L-look, just… she’s really important to me, but that religious thing is important to her, and I… I don’t know if I can overcome that to make her fall in love with me. Ya know? And it’s a part of her that I love and respect, so I don’t want to fight it either…”

 

“No, I get you kid,” Kiki agreed as they turned towards the dorms, letting themselves into one a few buildings away from the one that housed Jasmine and Marina. “She wouldn’t be the woman you loved if she changed, right?”

 

“Right! That’s what I was trying to say,” Jasmine agreed, feeling a bit more relieved as she felt that someone was understanding her. As the pair climbed the stairs, conversation fell to the side as they passed a pair making out in the corner. Getting to the right floor, they stepped out of the way of a fuming redhead. Before they got to Kiki’s door, the words ‘cheating bastard’ echoed through the halls.

 

“Well… I wish Olivia had found out about her boyfriend in a better way, but…”

 

The door shutting behind them seemed to cut off Kiki’s words, drawing Jasmine’s attention towards the grinning face of Kiki. “You’re doing great Kid, but I think we just need to up it a little bit. Add a bit of your own flair, and try to seduce her. She has you in her hand, and you want her to be in yours as well? Well the first step is to say it.”

 

“I already did, didn’t I?”

 

“Humor me, say it again.”

 

“I like Marina,” she stated casually though confusion was evident on her face.

 

“And?”

 

Here she paused, feeling her face starting to heat up as she tried to look away from Kiki, the trusted older sister figure she had come to trust. “And I guess I want to know her better?”

 

“Not that… what is the next goal you want to achieve? What is it you want her to be?”

 

“I want… I would like it if she could be my… if she and I could da- err…” she tried a few times, wondering why it was so hard to admit it now. She was alone with someone that knew the answer already. But it was hard to form the words and get them out.

 

“Breathe Jas, just let it flow from you.”

 

Taking a bracing breath, she closed her eyes and focused on Marina. How she felt in her arms as they cuddled that night they slept through the snowstorm. How she looked in the low light of the library while they studied. The sparkling in her eyes as she talked about her faith. The soft, tender lips smiling so peacefully at her. “I want her to be happy, and I want to make her happy.”

 

“Good, and how do you think that’ll happen?”

 

“I guess… I’d like to kiss her and take her on dates,” Jasmine confessed as she scratched the back of her head. Then her eyes widened in surprise. She worked her jaw a few times, feeling the words out in her head a little before she added her own voice. “I want to date my best friend Marina.”

 

“Good! Now let’s get plotting on how that will happen,” Kiki commanded as she pushed Jasmine towards a seat, heading for the mini-fridge and pulling out a couple pudding cups and plastic spoons. “All the best plots are formed over pudding and with a lot of flair!”


	24. I Need a Hero

The song for the delayed week is the cover for [_I Need a Hero_](https://youtu.be/EasWdq7Njgo) from Shrek 2. Special shout out to [Goldenfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenfire/pseuds/Goldenfire) for being there.

Logo-Comics did a good addition to his four riders of the apocalypse narrative to [Always](https://youtu.be/eSMeUPFjQHc) by Erasure. ([Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39701664#workskin))

I will update Enberlight's story when she posts them with both Ao3 and Tumblr links as always.

A word of warning, this is based on personal experience, and may have triggering content. If you are triggered by certain things, maybe have a friend you trust check it over first?

* * *

_Worthless. Pathetic. Hopeless. Broken._

 

He knew the words were not true, but as he sat curled up on the computer chair letting them cycle in his head, he couldn’t help but feel their cruel claws digging in deeper and deeper.

 

It hadn’t even been anything anyone said to him, but rather he had been reading a story, and one character had said that ace people were broken, unable to love or have relationships. Most nights it wouldn’t have even been given a second thought. But there was something about this night that had snowballed out of control.

 

_Worthless. Pathetic. Hopeless. Broken._

 

He had been like this for an hour now, his mind casually whispering those words on endless repeat in his own voice. He could almost see his own reflection sneering down at him as it pronounced these words over and over again. He had commitments to work on, promises to keep, but here he was, fighting against the tears that he refused to let fall. He was the emotionless one, the one that others turned to when they needed support. He couldn’t show that he was weaker than them.

 

Shifting in the sweatpants he lounged about, he moved into a cross-legged position and tried to focus on just breathing, hoping that might trigger something to get the words to stop. But yet they returned.

 

_Worthless. Pathetic. Hopeless. Broken._

 

He knew that there were others he could turn to, but he didn’t want to intrude on their lives. Hime was probably sleeping for work, Nyan was pregnant and probably sleeping as well. Those two were the firsts to have seen and helped him through these times when his mind seemed to rally against him.

 

They had showed him the light so often before, he didn’t want to bother them with him forgetting it again. Perhaps he was:

 

_Worthless. Pathetic. Hopeless. Broken._

 

Stifling the sobbing that he refused to allow himself to have over his own mind creating problems, he looked down into his own trembling hands. He had to stop this, it was on him to be strong for the others. That was even if he was what those words might suggest, he could pretend to be of worth to others. He could help others, and maybe share some hope that even if he was broken, he still worked as a human should.

 

Putting on the song he was supposed to be working on this week, he took several more deep breaths to try and steady himself, but words continued fleeing him before he could capture them into coherent thoughts. And yet like a drum beat or a bassline, the same words repeated in the background.

 

_Worthless. Pathetic. Hopeless. Broken._

 

Looking up as the sound of a message cut through the music, he saw that Goldie was messaging him. Pausing the music so he could focus on his friend, he began to talk about her day, comenserating her on dealing with silly problems, poking at the problematic people she had to deal with in her job.

 

He thought he was getting better, but it seemed that he wasn’t as composed as he thought. She noticed something was up, and offered him a chance to talk, but his fingers stalled as he tried to type up the words.

 

_Worthless. Pathetic. Hopeless. Broken._

 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe now, his hands stalling in doing their one job. His eyes searching for a distraction, something to divert his attention enough that he could regain himself. And then the sound chimed again, letting him know that Goldie was talking to him again. She wasn’t going to let him run away, but she wasn’t going to push. She was there.

 

She cared.

 

She had seen him break before, and helped him to pick up the pieces. Swallowing against the dryness in his throat, he began typing up what had happened, attempting to put together what had led to this current state.

 

And she read the words, he felt his hands trembling as tears built up at the corners of his yes. He shouldn’t have told her anything, he should have just pretended to be fine, because now she’d know he was:

 

_Worthless. Pathetic. Hopeless. Broken._

 

Her response broke the dam, letting the tears finally roll down his cheeks as he read the words over and over again.

 

“ **_But you aren’t broken._ ** ”

 

And just like that, the voice quieted and he could feel himself uncoiling inside. The tension and misery bleeding out as she continued talking him through it. He wasn’t worthless, he had done good.

 

He wasn’t pathetic, it was something that others experiences.

 

He had hope, for as long as he drew breath, there was hope for tomorrow.

 

He wasn’t broken, he was just built differently. He still loved, but he didn’t desire sex. He wanted to comfort others, and let them comfort him in turn. He didn’t have to face this alone, and that… That made him whole enough to rebuild.

 

He couldn’t have done this alone, he wasn’t strong enough to defeat himself, but with others, he was able to beat back the doubt, the anger, the self-loathing. He had fought long and hard against his own darkness.

 

But he had needed a hero, and Goldie had risen to be that hero again.

 

Someday, he would be someone’s hero again. For tonight, he was just going to let the emotions play out, and work on starting over in the morning.


	25. The Last Rose of Summer

Hey everyone, sorry this one took so long to come together. This week's song is [The Last Rose of Summer ](https://youtu.be/LqtSmj7zxmw)performed by Laura Wright.

Logo-Comics did [Tír na nÓg](https://youtu.be/dhW1mh7U6-U) by Celtic Woman ft Oonaugh. ([His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39701844#workskin))

Enber is still catching up and I will update both her Ao3 and her Tumblr here when she does. Send her love and support please.

* * *

 

A chill wind rustled the leaves as Rose looked around at the abandoned town around her. She was the last, all the others had gone before her. It had started slowly, with a person just vanishing in the night. One, two, maybe even three a night would vanish, all people that lived on their own. Some thought it was some type of kidnapping, but the police verified that none of the locks had been disturbed.

 

That was when the first family vanished.

 

Children’s toys left in heaps as though they had been playing with them, homework that stopped mid-letter, not even as though the pen had been jerked in panic, just a sudden end, and meals half-eaten, with food still on the forks.

 

That was when panic began settling in. Some attempted to leave, only to arrive on the other side of town that they had left from with a confused expression, and tears in their eyes. Some just settled in to wait.

 

Others like Rose began searching for clues as to what was going on. They were the last to go, they were struggling against some great unseen force, but after the others vanished, their hopes were running thin.

 

Marigold was the first, the sunny blonde had just lost her sister and the niece she had spent endless days spoiling after the father died overseas. She had been nearly inconsolable after their loss, and withered away slowly. When she faded, she had been sitting in front of Rose and gave her the first smile since her family had left. “I’m going to join th-” she started, but never finished, leaving only a still warm imprint on the couch, and final tears that hung in the air before dropping down onto the pillow.

 

Next was Lily, and she was angry. She wanted to bring everyone back, to stop whatever was doing this. She had lost her elderly parents early on, and hated being alone. But on the final night, she had broken down in Rose’s arms, sobbing that she was scared; scared to be alone. As Rose comforted her, letting her know that she wasn’t alone, a peaceful smile spread over her face and she nodded. Lily had drifted off to sleep after that, fading out in the pale moonlight as the rest of their group watched on. She had been their strength, and only allowed Rose to know her weakness.

 

The group was now just three, huddled together in the center most house in town so they could continue their research. Petunia and Violet had been two twins with black hair that almost shone purple in the light. They had set up a radio to try and find some help from outside. They could pick up automated signals, radio stations broadcasting music, and news reports from outside the town, but nothing they sent out seemed to reach anyone.

 

Deep down, they hadn’t expected anything else.

 

The pair of them were working late into the night, Rose cooking a late night meal for the three of them to share when it happened. Petunia lifted her hand, and noticed she could see through it. Violet hadn’t even made a sound as she placed her own fading hand in hers. It would seem that they had come into this world together, they were going out of it the same way. Rose didn’t even know they were fading until she turned around and the headsets they had been listening with fell, their microphones being knocked askew.

 

That left one.

 

She was the last, the only person in a town that had been lazy and peaceful with a little over five-hundred people. That had also been about three weeks ago, and as fall settled in, she wandered through the empty streets.

 

The haunting echo of her soft footfalls drove a chill through her body not born from the turning season. She had cried until her eyes were dry as the dessert, screamed until her voice fled into the night, pleaded, begged, even canjouled, but nothing brought about the force that was coming for her.

 

She was so tired, so very tired and alone.

 

She had food that would last her years at the pace she used to eat, but everything tasted like sawdust in her mouth. Instead, she found herself walking house to house, turning off lights, locking doors, and saying a final farewell.

 

She almost laughed at that, a pitiful broken sound that one might have mistaken for a sob as she tugged another door closed behind her. The last one to leave was in charge of turning off the lights and locking the doors after all.

 

It took her weeks, going house to house and putting everything to rights. Cleaning up dishes was a welcome reprieve from her silence, tucking away children’s toys and unplugging all the electronics. Three weeks for the small town, and then there was one final building remaining.

 

Hers.

 

She had just moved in, and was settling into her new life when the people began vanishing. Taking a deep breath she set about finishing her house. For want of something to do, she emptied the boxes she had left unpacked due to the rash of disappearances. She didn’t plug in any electronics, and unplugged those she had already plugged in. Propped open her fridge and freezers to prevent that smell, and then sat at her small dining table and began writing.

 

She left a note to anyone that might chance upon the town in the future. A simple sign that people had been here and resisted to the end. Setting it on the counter, she weighted it down with an empty coffee mug and moved to lock her own door. That was when she noticed the first sign.

 

It was time, and as she moved towards through her backyard, she settled in among the flowers she had fallen in love with before moving in. They were withered and preparing for winter, but she would never see them at full bloom again. Oddly enough, she was happy.

 

It was her time.

 

“A garden? Fitting place for you Rose,” she whispered to the wind, letting a smile play out on her features as she disappeared, no sign left behind. At the edge of town, a green sign stood silent vigil overlooking the road into town.

 

On its front, were white letters reading, “Now Entering the Town of Summer, Population: 0”


	26. Your Fault

**Song:[ _Your Fault_](https://youtu.be/_-EmdEEqs2w) from Into the Woods**

Logo did [_Defying Gravity_](https://youtu.be/Yf9Bt5WFZKs) from Wicked. ([His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39702471#workskin))

Enber is still under the weather and I will update when she posts this chapter. Both tumblr and Ao3.

* * *

 

“Well this is pretty terrible,” the blonde girl stated as she leaned against the wall and slumped down to the ground. “When she comes out, she’s going to hate all of us, and it’s all my fault.”

“Well wait a minute, how is it your fault Julia?” the black-haired boy asked as he knelt next to her and patted her on the shoulder. “You only bumped the door, if it was anyone, it was Marianne who locked the door from outside before coming in without the key.”

“Well if it wasn’t for you telling me that Julia was here and trying to trick me in here to gloat so you could trap us both in here so you were alone with Lucinda, we wouldn’t be here Grant,” the rich brunette sniffed as she turned away to stare out the window, wondering if these peasants could survive the three floors to the ground so they could let her out. No, Lucinda had lectured her to stop thinking of their friends as that, but… were they friends?

Without Lucinda, she would be alone. Grant would have been stuck as just a jock while his parents refused to give him time off long enough to be just a normal student. Julia would likely be bullied by everyone in the school, including Marianne herself. But that was… that was the old her, right?

“Look, I know we’re all a little tense here, and I shouldn’t have given him the idea to stall you cause I wanted to confess to Lucinda tonight,” Julia as she placed her head on her knees, hoping her tears don’t mess up the dress she had worn for this special night. “But then I saw her dancing with Roger, and… I couldn’t… my heart just crumbled since I’m ju-”

“Just amazing? Like Lucinda is always telling you, right?” Grant cut in, rubbing her shoulder in a brotherly manner. Of course he would use Lucinda’s words to help someone else, he was always doing that. But she could see its effect taking hold on the girl that had been about to enter a downward spiral of self-depreciation. “See, we all have been a bit silly tonight, and I’m sure the others are out doing something else just as silly. I think the reason Roger was dancing with Lucinda tonight was because Evan wasn’t able to come tonight since he called out sick today.”

“Me? Silly?” Marianne sniffed as she glared down her nose at the pair, before the image of Lucinda glaring back at a much more haughty past her filled her mind’s eye. She was doing it again.

Relaxing her face, she rubbed her arm and looked out the window to see some of the others trying to hop their way through the courtyard down below. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what all that bright pink goo was, but hoped that it didn’t ruin some of their hairdo’s. She could tell they were expensive, and one of the girls had hair all the way to the small of her back.

Perhaps, perhaps she was being silly, and shared in the fault. “Yes, I suppose I was,” she gave a weak laugh as she shook her head. “Father would be so disappointed in me.”

She hadn’t even realized that her eyes were misting up at the thought of her father being disappointed with her, until she felt a pad of cloth patting at the corner of her eyes. Looking down, she saw a square of white folded cloth in Grant’s hand as he gave her a kindly smile. “Sorry, I don’t like letting people cry when I can help them.”

“You could have used that a few times yourself,” she stated as she cupped his hand gently before giving him a small smile. “We are all rather silly, are we not?”

“Less so than others,” he muttered as his eyes fell on the other group of five. Julia shuffled over to join them in their watching of the group trying to escape the hotel’s grounds to get themselves free of the pink goo. “If I have to lose, I think… you two would treat her heart right.”

“I believe the two of you would be preferable to the alternative,” Marianne agreed with a coy little smile as the other group tumbled over into the fountain, bubbles of pink floating off of them in a swarm. Their discussion was lost in the collective awkward laughter as they all felt grateful that it wasn’t them down there.

Instead of speaking after the laughter died down, a comradely silence fell over the trio of lovestruck fools. It was warm and soft, when just a few minutes ago she would have thought it to be smothering. Something had changed among them, but she couldn’t quite place it.

The group of unfortunates in the fountain seemed to have been able to get themselves free of the pink goo, but their clothes were likely ruined and hairdos for the two girls unsalvageable. Perhaps if she could talk to her father, she could use her allowance to do something nice for them, like a gift card to a spa? That would be nice and not poke fun at them for what happened tonight right? This would be something that Lucinda would suggest, right? Yes, she thought the kind girl would have. Maybe she could ask for her advice when she got her phone back from the coat room and could text her.

“If… if it was you two, I don’t think I would mind sharing,” the quiet voice of Julia cut through the silence, bringing her thoughts to a crashing halt.

Share?

That was an option? Well it was true she had heard of something called polyamory and open relationships, but that was stuff from Ancient Greece and Rome and not acceptable in modern times, right?

Right?

No, Father simply wouldn’t allow for her to have such a scandalous relationship. She would be cast out, disowned, and reviled from society.

But feeling Julia leaning against her side, the warmth and comfort of the usually shy girl soothing away the terror, coupled nicely by the strong hand of Grant resting gently upon hers. She could stand up to Father, couldn’t she?

“I think you’re right Julia, but we’ll have to talk to her directly about this first. All cards on the table, and all that rot,” she mused as she reached up to tentatively hug Julia around the shoulders and stroke her hair lightly. “Lucinda would be a perfect addition right in the middle in front of us, wouldn’t she?”

A soft click went unheard as she spoke, but the sound of the door opening and the music from the dance downstairs spilled in was hard to ignore. As the trio turned to see who it was that had saved them, they found a smiling Lucinda with her radiant smile, brilliant golden dress, and darling glasses watching them with the key in her hand. “Is it too late to be that addition? I could use my friends right now.”

“Come on, and bring the key.”


	27. Your Reality

This week's song is [Your Reality](https://youtu.be/pGZCb75bOQQ) but it's in a minor key from the Doki Doki Literature Club (Lollia feat. Chris Thurman)

Logo-comics did [Wake Me Up](https://youtu.be/wXcdYBh3hgg) by Evanescence. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39702651#workskin).

Enberlight is going through a bit on her end, so I ask that you send her love and support. When she catches up, I'll post both Ao3 and tumblr here.

* * *

The darkness of her room when she opened her eyes was expected, the gleaming red eyes from the ceiling not so much. “Good evening my dear,” the sultry voice whispered making her skin crawl as she scrabbled for the lamp to try and find out what it was above her.

 

“Oh, let me help you with that,” the voice whisper, sounding like it was right against her ear, the warmth of the breath causing her to gasp. It nearly felt like it was burning. And then the light was on, casting the room in a faint white glow. Well, except for where the gleaming red eyes were, around them, in a vaguely humanish form was a void of black that flowed like water. “Is this better my dear?”

 

“W-what are you?” she asked, finally finding her voice after a moment of staring.

 

The figure tilted its head, the details of a face solidifying enough that she could make out a soft jawline, slightly puffy lips, and those burning red eyes being half covered by lids with long and thin lashes. “What am I? A curious question… I am, our gateway my dear. Don’t you know who I am? You have created me many times over…”

 

“N-no? I don’t,” she started, only for her eyes to widen and drift over to her notebook sitting on her desk, where a trail of ink flowed down the front to a puddle that the figure was standing in. “You can’t be, that’s not…”

 

“Not possible? Perhaps not my dear, but this is your reality, so you must tell me,” the figure purred as she reached out, long and firm fingers reaching out to trace lightly upon the formerly sleeping girl’s cheek. It certainly felt real.

 

Swallowing the lump building in her throat, she pulled back slightly, using a finger to gently guide the hand away. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be… to be... “

 

“Writer’s block again my dear? I suppose that might be what I am doing here,” the figure offered with a soft laugh as she continued to float just before her.

 

That’s right, she hadn’t been able to set up anything for Yuriko’s next adventure for many reasons. She was thinking of taking the story in a new direction, since the readers didn’t seem to care anymore, and she had always used Yuriko as a safe way to explore things she didn’t want to address with herself. “Oh yes my dear, that is the cause of your writer’s block isn’t it? Your fear.”

 

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, using the half-truth as a comfortable shield against reality. She was terrified of what she had discovered, and before her Yuriko, the beautiful, athletic, and powerful alternative version of herself settled down with a knowing smirk.

 

She knew.

 

She knew that she wasn’t afraid, she was terrified. She didn’t think anyone would accept her for what she discovered, especially not Her.

 

Yuriko reached out again, this time not going for the cheek or face, but instead taking her own hand and gently holding it. “I can take it my dear, let me be your shield. No one knows what I am to you. Only you know.”

 

That was true, only she knew that Yuriko was created as a way to explore her own mind. Perhaps she could do it once more. Let Yuriko take the first steps. “I… I was thinking that you could f-fall in love with someone.”

 

“That sounds nice,” the ink figure stated as she rubbed the back of the author’s hand. “And who is the lucky person? My partner in saving the world? He is nice, but I think he might be married on the side. I’d love to meet his wife and kids. The twins are supposed to be adorable when they actually sleep the night.”

 

That earned a laugh as she remembered the partner in question, Agent James Smythe, an experienced field agent that had trained Yuriko in many things and was more of a mentor and big brother than a romantic partner.

 

“No? Oooo! I know how about that cute Barista? They were so nice! Bryce always remembers my tea preference, and goes out of the way to ensure I have it in when I come in,” she continued, watching the author’s face. “I wouldn’t mind that, but I think you should flesh out their character more. Keep the green highlights though.”

 

“I will, and no… I think Bryce isn’t the right one for you.”

 

“Hmm… Could it be my childhood friend that doesn’t know I’m the one that saved her three times over so far? The one with posters of my Agent alter ego on her walls? I was starting to wonder if she had a thing for the mask you know…”

 

Ah, the wince probably gave it away. But the pulling of the knees to her chest as she rememeber her own childhood friend just across the street that had her author pictures in frames in her room. Oh god, it was so obvious now, wasn’t it?

 

“No! Don’t stop, I want to get some romance, and Amy is wonderful isn’t she? I know that she would be in danger, but she’s strong, resourceful, and I’m pretty sure she knows who I am already. Come on, just one date? Please?” Yuriko was all but pleading, her red eyes looking sad and almost puppy-like. That was not a trait she had written about before, but perhaps she could include that when she was asking out Amy?

 

Turning away, she looked out the window overlooking the street, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know how to write love in your reality Yuriko,” she confessed as she leaned her head against her knees. “I want you to be happy, but if Jamie finds out that Amy is her and you are me…”

 

“That’s what I’m here for, exploring the worst and the best. Let me me help you write your reality, please?”

 

“I… I guess?”

 

“Excellent, now I think it’s about time for you to wake up. Please remember me.”

 

Before she could ask what Yuriko meant by that, the sound of her alarm forced her eyes to pry open and she found the burning rays of the morning sun flooding her room with painful light. Sitting up from the desk she’d spent the night slumped over, she stretched and tried to figure out why she felt she had the weirdest of dreams.

 

But that could be shelved for later, she had inspiration for Yuriko’s next adventure, and she had to brainstorm on it before she lost it.


	28. Turning Over a New Leaf

This week I did "[Turning Over a New Leaf"](https://youtu.be/VtotCj7ovkU)" by Andrew Stein (MandoPony) and Emily Jones, I hope you enjoy it.

Logo-Comics did a song to "[Discord](https://youtu.be/xPfMb50dsOk)" by Eurobeat Brony. ([His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39703746#workskin))

As soon as Enberlight catches up, I'll post everything. Give her some love and support.

* * *

 

Staring out the window as the train steamed along, she couldn’t help but reach down and rub the scar running the length of her arm. Had it really been three years since she left on the quest that had taken her so far? Back then, there wasn’t even a passenger train coming in, just a coach station and some stables to buy horses from. Taking a deep breath, she braced as the train slowed itself down to pull into the station.

 

It seemed so familiar, but at the same time completely different. It seemed that the O’Malleys had erected a new barn, and had a few new calves to their herd of cows. Their neighbors the O’Briens had a field filled with what looked like wheat, when it had been corn the year she left. But that was true of herself as well, wasn’t it?

 

When she left, she had barely been able to shoot straight, let alone take a life. But… that had changed.

 

Flexing her hand over the scar on her left arm, she frowned as she realized that perhaps it was true that she couldn’t come home again. Instead of dwelling on that, she picked up her ten-gallon and disembarked, her pack of supplies being slung over her shoulder with a casual ease that it had taken her months to realize she picked up.

 

As she walked out, she used the shade of her hat’s brim to inspect the town. She had missed this place over the years she was gone, but it looked like it had moved on entirely without her here. No surprise there.

 

A single leaf drifting past her eyes caught her attention as it flickered green against the surrounding city of brown and grey. And that was when she saw someone watching her. The yellow dress was new, but she’d recognize those sparkling blue eyes behind spectacles and warm smile anywhere on the planet. “Bella?”

 

The female figure must have been able to read her lips even from across the street as her smile just spread and her hand moved to wave her over. Without a thought, her boots kicked up the dust of the street as she moved towards her old friend and confidant. The one person who had been there for her after the bandits had burned down her homestead, taking her parents and sister with it. The one that hadn’t dismissed her for dead if she went on this quest.

 

The one that had been loyal and true.

 

“Bella! By God’s grace, look at you!” the gunslinger gushed as she finally got to her old friend, holding her by the shoulders before pulling her into a tight hug. “I missed you.”

 

“Are you here to stay?” she asked softly, her arms pulling the dust and soot covered woman closer, not caring if it ruined her dress.

 

“Yeah, Governor appointed me to be the Sheriff here. Heard that ol’ Lloyd retired about a month back.”

 

“He did, the deputy and assistant have been holding things together, but it is good to have an appointed sheriff again,” Bella explained softly as she pulled back and took her in again, the same sweet smile on her face. The scar over her left eye, the burn marks on her neck from where she tried to barge back into the fire, even the scar on her left arm where the bandit leader had driven a rail spike through it were nothing to her childhood friend.

 

“It’ll take me some getting settled in before I’m fully up and running, but what about you? Are you still helping your folks at the farm?” she asked as they began walking along Main Street, a few people giving them greetings in passing, but mostly ignoring them.

 

“No… Pa took ill the winter after you left, and Ma didn’t see the following summer,” she explained with her eyes looking down at the dusty ground. “I moved into town and helped out where I could, mostly bookwork.”

 

“You were always more for books than farming. You’re smart and good at keeping track of things,” she agreed, trying to think of a new topic as the smale faded from her friend’s face. Her eyes drifted along the path they were walking, finding that they were heading towards the jail, where she’d be hanging her hat now. “Can you tell me who I’ll be working with?”

 

“You remember Peter? Lloyd’s boy? He’s the deputy, and eager to talk to a marshal that took a step down to be a small town sheriff,” Bella commented with a teasing smile as she reached over to tap the dirty and bent tin star on her friend’s chest. “His wife’s just grateful he’s not the sheriff, especially with their third child on the way.”

 

“Huh, I remember him. He’s a good guy, and his wife was always so nice,” she offered with a smile as she remembered the offers she had been given before accepting the posting back at her home town. He was a big guy, full of muscles, but not a lick of meanness to him. Plenty of bravery, but he always kept it reigned in by his sense of right and wrong. Hopefully he’ll be able to help keep her temper in check.

 

Her eyes drifted over to Bella, and she could feel some heat returning to her cheeks. If she wasn’t damaged goods, she’d consider attempting to court her childhood friend. But as it were, she would just have to settle for what friendship she could restore after running off like she did.

 

“How about that assistant? You know how I get around figures and such-like,” she asked, attempting to avoid her mind tearing her a new one of self-doubt and recriminations. Maybe if she could find a shot of whiskey later, she’d nurse it, but for now she wanted a happy reunion.

 

“Oh, she’s been called smart, and knows how to keep track of things. I think you’ll like her Rebecca,” she commented with a coy little smile as they arrived at the sheriff station. Pushing the door open, she found it much like she remembered from her interviews after her family died. Her desk had a basket of baked goods and fruits in the middle of it. Peter was leaning back with his feet on the one to the left while his head rested against the back wall. And Bella settled behind the third one with the same coy smile that sent her heart a flutter.

 

“Welcome to back Green Leaf, Sheriff, I will be your assistant,” Bella commented just as the pieces fell into place for Rebecca. It would seem that no matter what, Becca and Bella were a team again.

 

Outside, a single leaf was kicked up by the wind and flipped over a few times before blowing away. But that was the start of another story, to be explored another time.


	29. Bmblb

This week we have [Bmblb](https://youtu.be/GJhiD4jvjo4) by Jeff Williams (featuring Casey Lee Williams). Here are the previous chapters. ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), [3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094), [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081), [5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31350669), and [6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31922250))

Logo-Comics did [Future Girls](https://youtu.be/v3xGiMJcGrk) by Smile.dk. ([His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39703947#workskin))

Enberlight is still under the weather and will not be in until she's feeling better. Please send her the best.

* * *

Enveloped in the sweet scent of springtime flowers, the garden was just off the campus, and Jasmine found herself staring at the carefully tended rose bushes with trepidation. She had gotten a note asking her to show up here today at noon, and as birdsongs fill the air, she couldn’t help but feel her heart thundering in her chest.

 

Was it time? Was it time to stop dancing around her feelings and finally get a confirmation one way or the other?

 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pulled out the butterfly shaped key and unlocked the gate to allow herself into the enclosed plant sanctuary. She’d been past this place often enough to know that the rose bushes would be filled with thousands of red blossoms in a matter of a few weeks, but now they were very much green with the new growth of springtime.

 

Inside the hidden garden, the sound of the world outside was shut out save for the soft humming of someone a little distant away, and the soft rustling of the leaves. The roses gave way to a row of white lilies on the right, and delicate looking blue forget-me-nots on the left. The flood of scents from some of the flowers was nearly overwhelming, but still she pressed on along the path, her fingers reaching out to lightly dance over the soft petals of the flowers themselves. She almost let out a laugh as a large and fluffy looking bumblebee buzzed out of a flower it was visiting only to settle on one a little distance from the path.

 

It was an idyllic setting, and she hoped that someday a play of hers could use this, perhaps she could see if she could get into the Secret Garden or something. Kiki would probably be teasing her to no end if she knew she was here, but she had to do this on her own. “Marina? A-are you here?”

 

“Take a left at the violets,” the humming voice called out softly before picking up the song without missing a single beat.

 

Looking along the path, she found that the violets were straight ahead, blocking her view of the center of the garden. Rushing along the path, she could swear that time was slowing down as she tried to find Marina to see what great surprise was waiting for her. Knowing her friend, it was something sweet and adorable, and perfect. With just a hint of nervousness coloring things just so. But that was Marina, and Jasmine wouldn’t change a thing about that.

 

After what seemed to be an eternity, she was standing in front of the violets, looking as it curved away towards the side either way. Her feet were already turning towards the left as her brain caught up with her. This was really happening, she was alone with Marina, and she could tell her everything.

 

She just hoped that Marina wouldn’t hate her for it.

 

Closing her eyes, she forced that painful thought back as she walked along knowing that it did her no good to second guess now. Even if Marina was heavily religious, even if she wasn’t into women, she was still Marina and she had a heart of gold. She would never hate someone for something like this, since Love was a gift from above. The greatest gift if she remember her Psalms right.

 

Then there was an opening in the violets, and she found herself looking at a pair of small clusters of flowers. On her left were mauve carnations, probably planted from after a prom. While on her right there were poppies huddling together in a swirl of green and white. But that was only momentary as she looked up and found the source of the humming falling silent as she waited beside a picnic basket on a red and white checkered cloth blanket. The area was perfectly smooth, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the gardeners hadn’t crafted the area just for such a purpose.

 

“H-hello Jasmine, I’m glad you found your way,” Marina offered with a nervous smile as she brushed her brown hair behind her ear. Turning to look at the basket, she busied her hands with the handle. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise to bring you here, I visit it when I want to be alone, and the groundskeeper agreed to let me rent the place so nobody would know you were here if you don’t want them to.”

 

That was right, the fanclub probably wouldn’t find this place unless they had followed her here today. There wasn’t any place to hide for a few yards away, so it would have been hard for them to not be noticed, but she wouldn’t put it past them to manage it again. “It’s a beautiful place here Marina, thank you for sharing your private garden with me.”

 

The dusting of rosy pink on Marina’s cheeks was worth more than the universe’s weight in gold at that moment, and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. “Oh! Uh, well it’s not mine, but I do visit it often, and have helped take care of some of it.”

 

“I remember, you came back covered in mud and sweat a few weeks ago,” Jasmine commented as she settled in across the picnic basket from Marina so as to not make her feel trapped. Kiki had told her to not come on too strong, and she hoped those few lessons were going to pay off. “You also had this proud glow about you that was mesmerizing…”

 

She had been glowing with pride, and after a shower and some juice, she revealed to the actress she had helped the old groundskeeper clean up the entire garden for a special favor. “Was this the favor you asked for?” she asked as the pieces fell into place. At the nod from the nervous girl, she beamed happily. “That’s amazing, and I love it! Thank you.”

 

“It was my pleasure… do you want something to eat? I know it’s a bit early for lunch, but I thought we could snack on the picnic and enjoy the spring sunshine?” Marina offered as she opened the box to reveal sandwiches, chips, and fruit that indicated a lot longer than just a quick lunch for the two of them. Something that Jasmine wasn’t even remotely thinking about objecting to.

 

Picking up a sandwich, she smiled and leaned across the basket. “I like your idea of a date Marina.”

 

As her friend flushed and tried to explain it away, she took a bit and let out a shout of pain as she chomped down on her tongue. Rolling out of her bed, Jasmine looked around in confusion as her sleep addled mind caught up with the truth of the situation she was in. Her dream had been so realistic, but it had been only a dream. Ignoring the bloody taste in her mouth, she thumped her head against the ground and let out a groan of dismay.

 

Fortunately there was a rule in the dorms: Long, dramatic groans of agony that were just one four lettered f-word being held for more than thirty seconds could be ignored in the middle of the night, especially during finals week.

 

Though it was a bit odd that it was coming from both sides of the hallway, as no one had ever heard Marina swear before.


	30. A Whole New World

This week I wrote to the song "[ _A Whole New World_](https://youtu.be/hZ1Rb9hC4JY)" from Disney's Aladdin. Here are the previous chapters. ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), [3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094), [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081), [5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31350669), [6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31922250), and [7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33267582))

Logo wrote to "[The Howling](https://youtu.be/U8hJsKn0wzo)" by Within Temptation. ([His Story.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39704025#workskin))

Enber is still having rough luck with her life, send her love and support.

* * *

 

So far it had been a fairly average meeting for the S.A.G.A. group, a few new people coming in, a few older ones offering to be mentors or just someone to turn to in times of need. However, for one of the senior members, two new arrivals had caught her attention almost instantly. Marina Smithson and Desmona Washington.

 

The name Marina had rang in her ears as she turned to look at the nervously smiling face of a girl she’d only known in pictures shared by her friend. That she was with someone else had been interesting, but when added to who it was… well Kiki was known for being a bit nosey at the best of times, and this was far from that.

 

“It was nice of you to come,” she offered to the blonde girl, picking up a cup off of the table and filling it with punch, before offering it to the rich woman who had come to support her friend, though some of the words tonight seemed to have touched a bit more close to home than she had initially thought. She hoped the girl would never play poker, she wore every emotion on the surface.

 

The blonde blinked at the offered cup, and carefully took it with a blush. “Oh, umm… thank you. I believe I saw you at the theatre the other day leaving with Jasmine, correct?”

 

“Yeah, Jas is a friend of mine. I’ve been helping her out,” she commented as she took her own cup, her eyes watching the blush form curiously. “And your friend… Marina was it? Is she liking it here?”

 

They both spared a glance towards the reserved girl standing off to the side talking with someone she had informed Desmona of knowing from a study group or something. “I think this was the right step for her… I hope it makes her more comfortable with herself and with her crush.”

 

A crush? No, this was bad, if she had a crush that would destroy Jasmine. But she couldn’t pry about the name, could she? Seeing the panicked look on her face, and the hand going to her lips, she decided now was not the time.

 

“If it can help her, then I believe that the group will have been more than the right step,” she agreed, trying to deflect the growing worry on the younger girl’s face. “Not too many allies show up for these, and even less stay after. I hope we’re not intimidating you.”

 

“No… you are not, but some things that were said,” she commented before looking into the depths of her punch and tapping her finger on the side of it nervously. “I’ve been so focused on Marina, that I never questions what I thought was my own path…”

 

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. You are unique, and deserve to know yourself at your own pace. It is a whole new world, and can be terrifying. But it can also be pretty dazzling and amazing when you have good friends that will help you understand yourself,” she explained, finding herself entering mentoring role as she found herself comforting the girl.

 

The pair stood for a moment, a companionable silence settling over them as they watched the rest of the room mingling and chatting. Eventually, it seemed as though Desmona came to a decision. “I was wondering, and if it is overstepping my bounds, please inform me… but are you and Jasmine…”

 

“Just friends, I haven’t even told her about this club yet. She knows about me though, I’m not even remotely in the closet.”

 

“Oh! Well… I suppose that if she were to be an ally and want to visit… Do you think she would… she would not feel different for Marina being here, would she? She respects her view quite a bit, and they are from the same hometown, so I imagine it could be troublesome if they were at odds,” the blonde asked quietly, not meeting Kiki’s eyes, which just intrigued the stage manager even more.

 

Slowly a smile spread over her lips as she wondered if this couldn’t help both of their friends. “I think that she would be more than welcoming for Marina to come out to her, she was very accepting of me and other members of the drama studies that are out and proud. I was thinking of inviting her to the next Pride Parade. If you’d like, I can send you information on it and the two of you can come with us.”

 

“Would you? Oh, I think that would be wonderful for Marina… I know that she is working through a lot to finally come to acceptance with herself, and to be honest, I feel I am floundering as her friend, and just making a mess of things,” she confessed with a relieved smile on her face. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a business card with her name and email address and a cell number listed on it. “Just send me the updates there, and I would be eternally grateful. How could I ever repay you?”

 

“For this? Just keep being Marina’s friend,” she offered, looking the card over in thought while smiling happily at her. “All I ask is for you and your friend to be happy and comfortable with yourselves. I think that she is just as good for you as you are for her.”

 

“She is far better for me than I am for her, but I am learning and trying to be better.”

 

The fond chuckle that escaped her as she reached out and tapped the shorter girl’s chin up to look her in the face. “If that is the best you can be for now, then that is all you have to be. Listen to your friend, and your heart, they’ll guide you true.”

 

The faint blush growing on Desmona’s cheeks made her wonder if possibly she had overstepped a bound, then she caught sight of tears stinging her eyes. “Y-you really think that? That I am a good friend?”

 

Oh.

 

Had this girl really been that isolated by wealth and privilege?

 

“I do, and if you want to talk outside of these meetings, just save my information when I text you later,” she offered kindly, knowing that she was taking a new little birdie under her wing. At the look of gratitude, she knew that she would not regret it though.

 

Taking a step back, she tucked the card into her flannel shirt pocket before glancing over where the girl in question was glancing over, concern evident on her face. Though she was facing Desmona’s back, it seemed that she had a sixth sense about these things. “Perhaps, I can even help you help Marina with her crush…”


	31. You're Welcome

This week's song was "[ **You're Welcome**](https://youtu.be/79DijItQXMM)"  from Disney's Moana.

Logo did "[The Friendly Arm Inn](https://youtu.be/1ZXiZZpe48c)" from the Baldur's Gate OST. ([His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39704232#workskin))

Enber has indicated that she's getting better, keep sending her your well wishes!

* * *

“You’re welcome,” she offered as she shut the door behind them.

 

“Hmm? Did I forget to say thank you?” the blonde asked as she turned back to look at the other. Her blue eyes were filled with fear as she worried over the lapse in manners. “I do apologize, I-”

 

“No, no, no,” she whispered softly, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I believe it was just something I forgot to say earlier. You were wonderful tonight my dear, the perfect companion.”

 

“Oh! Well… thank you again,” the pretty blonde offered with a light dusting of a blush coloring her cheeks. “I had a lot of fun with you tonight Rosie.”

 

“It was my pleasure,” she agreed as they moved towards the couch, settling in to continue their conversation. “What was your favorite part?”

 

“Oh, I think the shooting range was so interesting. I’d never done anything like that before, it was so exhilarating! I swear it was so much fun to hold a gun and fire it. If my parents ever found out…”

 

“I can promise you they will never learn it from me,” Rosie agreed softly with a laugh as she leaned her head back to look up at the ceiling. She could use a smoke, but her companion didn’t allow it inside the apartment. Well, maybe she could sneak out to the fire escape later.

 

“And then when we did the gardening, that was a lot of fun,” she gushed as she looked at the dirt still clinging to her hands and nails. “I would love to do that again with you. There was something so relaxing and freeing about working with the Earth like that.”

 

Rosie smile spread slowly, curling upwards as she remembered their gardening project. “That was rather fun, wasn’t it? You took to it a lot better than I ever imagined.”

 

“And then that meal!? My word, I’d never had anything quite so… it was something impossible to describe. Thank you for encouraging me to try something new.”

 

“You are very welcome my dear,” she commented with a contented smile as she looked her companion over. “It’s all in the spices really, I showed you it being cooked.”

 

“I know you did, and it was still magical to me. I’m so glad that you have more of that meat stored away in the freezer, I might raid it in the future,” she agreed happily as her blue eyes glossed over slightly, before she stood up and swirled in place.

 

“And then you let me drive the car! I’ve never gone so fast before! I was so terrified and thrilled! It was amazing!”

 

“You’re amazing,” Rosie commented as she watched her companion dancing before her, getting off the couch to lean against the wall nearby. “I couldn’t have imagined a better night than the one we had just now.”

 

The blush grew on her companion’s cheeks, and she was just about to respond when a laugh bubbled up through her. “It wasn’t perfect, but it was so… magical!”

 

“We’ll have to do it again my dear,” Rosie commented as she moved towards her companion, her eyes dancing with mischief and mirth. “Now, how about we finish it off with a bang?”

 

Blue eyes widened as she saw what Rosie was talking about, a packet of firecrackers. She’d never been able to play with them like other children had growing up. Looking into Rosie’s eyes, she took one of them out of the pack and rolled the tube of explosive fun between her hands. “This would be wonderful… But I don’t have any ma-”

 

The protest was cut off as a lighter appeared in her hands, right next to the explosive she was playing with. “Roof?”

 

“Roof,” Rosie agreed as she indicated the doorway.

 

The blonde scooped up the entire collection of explosives and ran for the roof access stairwell. Rosie let out a silent laugh as she slipped a cigarette into her lips without missing a step. This was going to be a blast.

 

Arriving at the roof, the blonde found the entire set up that Rosie had arranged earlier. A place to launch the fireworks from, seating for them to watch from, and a cooler of drinks. Rosie took the lighter and lit her cigarette, taking a long drag before she moved over towards the firing line. “Ready to light up the night?”

 

“YES!” the blonde responded as she began setting the fireworks into place, lining up the fuses so she could light as many at one time as possible. The acridic smoke rolling from the cigarette was a bit distracting, but she’d gotten somewhat used to it from being around Rosie for so long.

 

Somewhere down below, she could hear the city life going on. A few sirens, car horns, car alarms, and people shouting all drifted up towards her. Letting out a laugh, she leaned over the edge and saw the crowd down below. “They’re going to get a great show out of this, aren’t they?”

 

“Oh absolutely…”

 

“I’m… I’m not going to get in trouble for this am I?”

 

“For this? Oh, I doubt it…”

 

“Okay! Thank you Rosie!” she commented as she took the cigarette out of her mouth and used it to light the first firework off. Taking a deep drag off the cigarette while the fuses began burning, she blew out a smoke ring that looped out around one of the sticks of M80.

 

Who knew that shooting, eating, and disposing of most of your parents with the part of you that they had forced into hiding with pills was ever so much fun? Rose Johnson let out a laugh as the fuses burned past the halfway point and she pushed the entire collection over the edge down towards the crowd of people below. Leaning over the edge, she waited in eager anticipation for the explosive finale to Rosie’s grand return to the world.

 

Tomorrow was going to be even better.

 

Slowly her lips curled upwards cruelly around the cigarette between her lips. Her blue eyes watched the burning glow as they landed on the ground far below, just in time for the noise to turn into shrieks of horror.

 

The explosions were beautiful to watch, as was the pure chaos that spread as the other explosives set by Rosie went off up and down the street far below. The fire and flame lit her up with an eerie glow as she took another drag and let out a plume of smoke.

 

“You’re welcome, and thank you.”


	32. You'll Be In My Heart

Hello my friend! I hope that this Mother's Day was a good one for all of you.

We had a theme of mothers in the songs this week. Mine was [You'll Be In My Heart](https://youtu.be/iShZ8bLrDc4) from Disney's Tarzan.

Logo did Quest for Camelot's [The Prayer](https://youtu.be/OLktLaEnusM) as performed by Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39704388#workskin).

* * *

 

There was something almost magical about the small form in her hands, the delicate features, but the strength behind the gentleness. How was it possible that something so small could be this strong? Lifting them up, she whispered softly to the tiny figure. “I will keep you safe and warm,” she vowed before lowering them and looking around the room that they were in.

 

It would have to do for now, but she had to work quickly to make it safe for them. Freeing one of her hands, she brushed back her purple hair and set to work. She clutched the tiny figure to her chest as she worked with the other hand, dragging things over the broken window to block out most of the chill that was seeping in. Next she made a nest of blankets and clothing for them to sleep in. “I’m still here little one,” she whispered running her finger over the slightly chubby cheeks, getting a playful giggle out of them.

 

Setting about work, she found some food for herself, and a little bit of milk that was still good in the fridge in the next room, careful to stay in view of her little charge the entire time. Heating it up so it wasn’t so chilled, she rushed back and ate with the little one, careful to not feed them too fast.

 

She didn’t know what else to do at this point. They were eating, it shouldn’t get too cold overnight, but she could build a fire to keep them warm just in case. The little one was eating, and should be warm enough in the nest, especially if she was going to share it with her. Thankfully, the glass had gone outside the house rather than in, but that meant something had broken it on the way out instead of in.

 

She didn’t know what the story was there, but this little one needed protecting, and she was the only one available to do so. Running her hand through her purple hair, she worked it free from several of her earrings, only to hear the small one let out a laugh at that and mimic her. Smiling to herself, she leaned down to whisper. “You are so wonderful, I bet you see a greater universe than I do. And I hope one day you’ll tell me all about it.”

 

Chuckling to herself, she couldn’t help but smile ruefully at her silly antics, as if she actually expected a response for a moment.

 

Letting her mind drift for a moment, she reflected on the stories that had led her to finding this place. The rumors of haunting noises, of eerie laughter and loud wails. She had come expecting ghosts, ghouls, and other spooks of that nature, not something like what she had found.

 

First the house had been lived in recently, possibly within the past week if the dates in the fridge were to be believed. And then there was nothing other-worldly at all, save for finding this little one abandoned in the middle of the room with a broken window to the outside world.

 

Finally, it was that there was no signs of human habitation at all, at least no modern signs. No televisions, no computers, the lights worked, but everything seemed positively ancient compared to where she had grown up.

 

“You could ask me,” a tiny voice spoke up, drawing her out of her reprieve. With wide, shocked eyes, she slowly turned her attention to the figure in her arms. She had wondered if she had misheard the singing earlier, but it seemed this doll-sized figure had been the culprit then too. “Hello, I’m Sugarplum.”

 

“H-hello? I-I a-” she started, stuttering out of surprise.

 

“You are Zoe Jones, my bonded of food and shelter,” the tiny figure stated as she unfurled her wings and stretched out on her belly. “I did not know the humans still kept some of the old traditions.”

 

“Old traditions?” Zoe asked in confusion, before another thought entered her mind. “How do you know my name?”

 

“Oh? Oh dear… you mean… oh fiddlespits! I thought you knew the tradition of bonding with fae! Great, now I’m going to be in your heart always, and you weren’t prepared.”

 

“Woah, woah, woah, wait… my heart? Like love?”

 

“Oh yeah, I guess so, but not that romantic type, more the type you’d have for your mother or child…”

 

“Family?” Zoey supplied, getting a nod out of the winged creature, “That’s not so bad… but about the bonding?”

 

“Oh, right… well you swore to protect me and keep me warm, which is a vow of shelter according to the laws of magic. Which I thought you followed since you could see me in the first place,” she offered sheepishly before clearing her throat. “But also you fed me of human food. You could have just abandoned me after you found me, or taken me from this place…”

 

“Well… I kinda was going to stay the night to prove to some peo-” she paused, tilting her head as her eyes narrowed in thought. “I feel like I know you from somewhere else.”

 

“That is because… well… you sort of do?” the fairy offered sheepishly as she poked her fingers together, her own purple hair drifting forward. “Do you remember a winter two or three winters past. Coming into a room, turning on the lights, and see-”

 

“Seeing you.”

 

“That’s right! I knew you were smart!”

 

“Okay, but why did you leave? I left out treats for you for weeks afterwards.”

 

“Because you saw me, and we have laws against humans we are not bonded with seeing us. Your bond with me will help with that, but you have to learn some magic as well,” Sugarplum offered with a nervous laugh as she wondered if that secret society was still hunting down fae creatures. Perhaps starting with the defensive spells would be better than the utilitarian ones this time.

 

Looking up at her new human, she found her being stared at with a look of shock and pure pleasure. She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it was at least not outright rejection. “So… basically I just lucked into the best thing ever?”

 

“Yes? Or… umm… it may be bad sometimes…”

 

“Our little family is going to be awesome Sugarplum, I promise.”

 

“Lesson one: Stop promising things to the fae, those things are like law with us. But I think that we will be, as you said, ‘awesome’. I will continue your lessons in the morning.”

 

“Can you tell me what took out that window before bed?” Zoey asked as she looked where the bookcase was keeping out the worst of the wind.

 

“Oh, just an escaping wind djinn. He’ll lose his wind soon enough and go back home,” Sugarplum explained casually.


	33. Piano Man

This week's song is  ** _[Piano Man](https://youtu.be/gxEPV4kolz0)_ ** by Billy Joel.

Logo did Blind Guardian's [_**Time What is Time**_](https://youtu.be/h0fV5KF80_Q). [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39704526#workskin).

* * *

 

 

Bill walked into the dimly lit bar, his eyes adjusting as he took his spot at the piano up on stage. How long had he been coming here? Playing the same songs day after day for the patrons? Looking over to Jo behind the bar, he got a warm smile from her, and a subtle point towards a bottle of water she had left there for him. She knew he was the main draw here, and liked to keep him hydrated during these shows.

 

Settling in, he felt the quiet grow among the crowd, all eyes on him once again. Closing his eyes, he flexed his fingers and reached out to begin playing, just letting the music flow out of him. Some many in the front row smiled as he seemed to recognize the old song, perhaps some memory from when he was a younger man. It was a fairly common dancing song back in the day, perhaps it was one he had danced with his first love to.

 

The softening of his focus allowed him to almost see through time, to find the old man in his youth. Shy and awkward, blushing as he talked with his first crush before summoning up the courage and asking for a dance.

 

The song wound on, his smile growing as he heard the song playing again, this time at a wedding reception, the man in a nice suit and tie. It was a happy affair, with dancing, good food, and warmth flowing in waves.

 

Then the song turned darker, his eyes misting over as he saw the man, many years older, in a dress shirt and black tie, standing over a fresh grave while the song continued playing. The same shirt and tie he was wearing as he sat in the front row, downing another drink.

 

Tearing his eyes away at the end of the song, he found two common patrons in a heated conversation off to the side of the room. He knew that the corner was fairly quiet compared to the rest of the bar. They were old friends, grew up just down the street from each other.

 

One wore a brown suit, having come from his job as a Real Estate Novelist, or whatever that really was. He seemed to be fairly well off, and often bought rounds for some of the other regulars. Faintly he remembered his name being Paul Canyon, since he used a joke about people mistaking him for Paul Bunyan often.

 

His friend Davy was rather dashing in his Navy blue uniform, probably fresh from the ship on shore leave. Or he had some officers party to go to later. The pair were always here together, left together, and generally were a good pair of guys. They usually enjoyed the music a bit more, but the conversation looked pretty rough with Paul being upset about something, and Davy being all but in physical pain because of it.

 

Probably because Paul’s mother asked about him settling down and getting married again.

 

Turning away from the officer and the gentleman, Bill went back to scanning the crowd, feeling their energies build with each note. Drawing himself upright, he began another song for the fairly good sized audience the bar afforded him. Couples were dancing in the back, and he could see the wait staff refilling drinks as they emptied.

 

His job was easy.

 

He had to play and sing them a song.

 

Easy right?

 

As he opened his mouth to sing, he felt the energy of the room shift once again and knew that the song choice was reflecting his heartbreak. His friend John knew exactly why, and seeing him at the bar he almost faltered when he leaned over to whisper something to Jo, who shot Bill a sympathetic glance.

 

Ignoring the pain burning in his chest, he leaned into the microphone that reeked of alcohol from the boozy that played during the day and sang his heart out. He sang out the pain of walking in on his partner of six months sleeping with their neighbor. He sang out the betrayal and rage at his mother for constantly calling him a girl and that damn name he hated because it didn’t fit him. He sang.

 

He played music and sang because he was the piano man, and they knew why he was here. He was here because this was where he could be Bill the Piano Man, and not the name he left behind. He could be himself, and no one would judge him.

 

He could feel the conversation between Paul and Davy dying off as the pained tears burned at the back of his throat with each note. He could see the old man remember the pain of losing his husband of thirty years. He could see Jo want to storm onto the stage and just hug him.

 

He could feel and see everything, but still he played on. He was the Piano Man after all, and everyone was in the mood for a melody.

 

After the second song ended, he let his fingers continue playing. This wasn’t the same song, instead it was an aimless melody that slowly built in speed. He felt his frustrations flowing into each stroke, almost slamming some of the keys as he began building up a song to counter his mood. This was pure and unadulterated Bill playing tonight.

 

He had shared with them the drink of Loneliness, but now he wanted to counter it. He wanted to show all of them that he wasn’t going to let them drown in his melochonic funk. Jo gave him a smile about ten bars in, and nodded.

 

As the piano crescendoed with a tune reminiscent of a carnival, he stood up and began singing passionately into the microphone, letting the bar see the tears rolling down his face as he sang a song to make them feel alright.

 

Because when the patrons of the Blue Lagoon were feeling alright, Bill the Piano Man had done his job, and he could feel himself being something that he wanted above all else.

 

He could feel accomplished.

 

He had had a chance at being famous, but this was all he really wanted. To be known for doing what he loved and having his friends. Looking over at Jo and John give him a smile and knew.

 

He was welcomed to visit them tonight, and for once, he wasn’t going to say no.

 

They would help him with the pain, help him get back on his feet after the blows he suffered, and they would let him play for them as a payment. They never asked him for more than that, and so that was what he gave. He poured his soul into the music, and the crowd loved him for it.

 

As the music finished, and silence settled on the crowd, he felt two pairs of arms supporting him. Looking up, he found Jo and John smiling warmly at him and patted him on the shoulders as the echoes of applause filled the air.

 

He was home.

 


	34. Anchors Aweigh

This week is a sequel to [Shiver Me Timbers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283360) it's Anchors Aweigh written to [The U. S. Navy Song](https://youtu.be/T-3ws7b4sZg) as performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

Logo wrote to the [Air Force Song](https://youtu.be/sHOq6Sl9u38) written by Robert MacArthur Crawford. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39704634#workskin)

* * *

Bracing against the spray of the ocean off the bow of the ship, Captain Miguel snorted as he searched the horizon for his quarry. The dastardly pirate Scarlet Cutlass had been seen back in the waters around the Isles of Princes, the very heart of the Imperial Power in the area. And to make it worse she seemed to have taken on crew and kidnapped his childhood friend Marina and her mother.  
  
Perhaps this was a fool’s mission, to seek out the Siren’s Reach and capture Captain Cutlass and her crew of cutthroat females to be brought back to face trial and execution for their crimes. Setting his face, his eyes lighted upon a tiny twinkle of light on the horizon two degrees to port. Pulling out his spyglass, he focused on it carefully and saw what he was seeking. The shape of the ship was as familiar as his own hand by now, and the purple light at the top was more than a little tell.  
  
He would find Marina and her mother on that ship. Calling out, he got his first mate to stand beside him and take a look at what they had found. “What say you Christian, are they making for the Devil’s Snare?”  
  
“No Captain,” the grizzled veteran answered as he lowered the glass. “We’re too far west for that. I would wager the Straits sir, they’re running high in the water meaning they’ve lightened for the shallows.”  
  
“They mean to lose us there, do they?” Captain Miguel sneered as he took the glass back and lifted it up to his eye once more, following the line of travel. “We’ll not overtake them with any sort of stealth on our side.”  
  
“Not overtake them, but if they are heading into the Straits, we would not be able to pursue either way. We are too heavy a craft for that, but our escorts might,” he mused turning to look at the lighter ships keeping pace with them. “If we cut them loose like hounds and chase her out the other end, we can be waiting.”  
  
“A fair idea,” the young captain answered with a nod of his head as he rubbed his chin with his thick gloves. “Get the orders to the other captain, we’ll break with The Requiem and The Challenger, they’ll serve as our escorts. Send Foxhound and Wolfhound after the Siren’s Reach.”  
  
With a salute, the First Mate was away, and the cry to weigh anchor resounded. He would have her now, or The Emperor’s Fist would sink in the trying. No mere pirate could escape the law of the Empire, and out here on the sea, he was the law.  
  
“Soon Marina, I will save you, and then we can wed…” he promised to the waves, his eyes fixed on the ship in the distance. Turning, his heavy boots clomped on the polished surface of the deck as he went to take the wheel. He would have her, and no pirate would take her from him, not this close to him finally winning her hand in marriage.  
  
With her father gone, her mother had been putting up a valiant effort tending to their little family and business, but they needed a man to helm the family. The business could reopen, and he would lead them to a bright and prosperous future, the likes of which they perhaps realized lost when the man of the house was reported lost at sea.  
  
He was just such a man, a captain of good standing, with a nobel family backing his lineage, he could give them a life that the beauty and fire of Marina deserved. He would even overlook her occasional dalliances with other members of the fairer sex should she continue seeking them after they wed. Though he was sure he would remove any such foolish desires from her head, he was not one to unnecessarily limit his wife.  
  
Taking the wheel, he waited for a nod from Christian before turning the ship off their current course and heading to circle around the straits. They had the wind, they had full sails, and the Siren’s Reach would have to slow down or risk running aground in the shallows. He was such a nice guy, he was even willing to allow some of the younger members of the Siren’s crew to plea coercion should they wish to serve as part of the reward for his crew.  
  
Nodding to himself once more, he steadied the course and allowed the Mighty Fist to plow through the water with only one thought on his mind.  
  
“Be strong Marina, I will save you, and then we can have our wedded bliss and family life I always dreamed of us having together,” his voice whispered, not even remotely overheard over the orders to the crew, the roar of wind, and the crash of the water against the painted sides of the Fist. “The sea is full of dangerous predators, but none of them are nearly as dangerous as I.”


	35. Ballroom Blitz

This week I wrote to [Ballroom Blitz](https://youtu.be/cN9jTnxv0RU) by Sweet.

Logo did [The Gambler](https://youtu.be/7hx4gdlfamo) by Kenny Rogers. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39704805#workskin).

* * *

One day, one freaking day, was that too much to ask for? Here she was, dressed in a form hugging little black dress at the opening of her best friend’s dancehall, and her other job was coming up to ruin a good time. She had seen the man back by the exit several times throughout the night, since he was wearing sunglasses indoors and at night, but the one that she was focused on was the raven haired woman with mascara running in twin lines from each eye like she had been crying.

 

Why were they even here?

 

Like hell she knew. This wasn’t even high society, or moderately wealthy, it was mostly just college kids coming to hear a live band and enjoy a night of free soda and pizza. The only thing she could figure out is that they had known she’d be there and were trying to find out her civilian form.

 

Gritting her teeth, she watched as the hall continued to empty out of her classmates, save for the band her friend was in stuck up on stage by the cage of shadows the girl over in the corner had summoned. Great, just… great…

 

The man was easy enough to deal with, after you get through his usual retinue of a legion of undead zombies and skeletons. It was the shadow mage in the corner that was the real challenge, she could kill you with a wink of her eye and you’d not even realize it. Well unless you were also a mage.

 

Realizing that she had nowhere else to go, she ran her thumb over the inner curve of her ring, activating the ruins there. Thankfully she had opted out of the flashy transformation her mentor had tried to convince her of, and instead a swirl of magic cloth encircled her from head to foot, before fading away to reveal a robed figure with a half mask up over the lower part of her face, and a cowl pulled up over her head. Only the faint green glow of her eyes escaped from the shadows of the cowl, and as she stepped out, the other two locked on her with feral gleams in their eyes.

 

“Looks like the plan worked,” the man cackled as he raised his hand to the sky, many skeletons and zombies springing forth to add to the numbers already in place. He brought his middle finger and thumb together and lowered it down before his face.

 

“Oh dear, looks like we will have a bit of a ballroom blitz on our hands,” the girl in the corner cried out softly as she swirled shadows around her hands in preparation for the battle to come. “But there is something missing…”

 

Emerald tilted her head in thought before a hand flashed out of her robe and extended towards the band. A single flame spiraled up the length of her arm, and sprang off her extended finger to form a bird that swooped through the bars of the cage and trailed musical notes in its wake. As each note washed over the band, they began to play music, the melody itself fast and thrumming with power, but the notes and song washed from their memories as soon as it passed from them.

 

“Much better my dear, always time for the dramatics!” the Mourner called out as Necron snapped his fingers, unleashing the horde of undead upon Emerald. And with that the battle was joined.

 

Emerald timed her movements with the ever changing pace of the song, fire swirling out of her fists and feet, turning her into a whirling dervish of burning death. Her eyes focused in on the Mourner, allowing her to blaze a path of deanimated corpses in her wake as she dodges bolts of coalesced shadows.

 

Once it seemed that Mourner realized that her bolts wouldn’t strike the combatant, she lunged forward to fight, twin daggers of pure pitch in her hands.

 

Darkness was met with emerald flames, the bearer of the blaze stepping back to deflect the blows. Sometimes it was useful leaving Necron in play, since his minions often served as useful temporary sheathes for the blades made of shadows.

 

It might have seemed the Mourner had the advantage here, but Emerald had more experience with actual fighting and knew that the inexperience had one fatal flaw in common most every time. And as the gothic nightmare lunged forward, her grin splitting into rows of razor teeth, she side-stepped the stab, letting it pass harmlessly just as she brought her elbow down on the back of the shadowmancer’s skull.

 

The body fell to the ground, even as the cage of shadows vanished from around the band. Turning towards Necron, she frowned as she saw the glowing red eyes staring at her with rage from the windows. “Until next time Emerald!” he called out before jumping off the window and into the night. A flare of sickly purple magic outside, followed by the collapse of the undead told Emerald enough, she knew that he had fled back to the underworld.

 

She would have to interrogate Mourner about their objective later, but for now she had to focus on the band. Releasing them from her spell, she approached silently. Her head tipped as the singer stepped forward. She had always known her friend to be resilient, and stubborn, but placing herself bodily in front of her band from an unknown element like a mage that was burning in front of her without being consumed was rather foolish.

 

“Hey thanks! You’re Emerald right? Big fan of your work, thanks for saving the city so often,” her girlfriend praised as she drew closer to the vigilante mage. “Look, I know this is a bit odd, but umm… who do we charge for the damages?”

 

Emerald turned to look at the unconscious Mourner for a moment before pulling out a card from her robes and passing it over. It was the local head of her council’s idea to provide a contact point should such incidences cause property damage so they could fix it. Thankfully the treated paper didn’t burn as she hadn’t perfected her control enough to completely douse the flames about her hands.

 

A flick of her wrist, and it was wedged under the handle of the amp next to her friend. The woman turned to look at it for a moment before giving Emerald a smile. “Thanks! Could you give us a bit more warning before doing something like that? I mean your bird did kinda ask, but it’s nice to know that kinda thing.”

 

Emerald let out a frustrated sigh before opening her mouth, and letting out the sound of a roaring inferno before closing it again and shaking her head. The normal human blinked and nodded slowly. “Right gotcha…”

 

Emerald bowed before turning to leave, summoning forth a flock of firebirds to collect Mourner and take her away. She would have to get her to the council so they could figure out what she and Necron were doing here.


	36. Give Up Every Soul

Back at it again with the borderline horror stuff, sorry for those of you that aren't a fan.

The song this week was [Give Up Every Soul](https://youtu.be/NH9_rsyuurc) by OR3O.

Logo did [A Thousand Years](https://youtu.be/rtOvBOTyX00) by Christina Perri. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39704877#workskin).

* * *

 

Traitor.

 

The words were etched into the wall, dripping lines of red from the crevices to pool upon the floor in puddles of crimson. The word burned into her mind as she was forced to stare at it without pause. Was it her fault? Was she some sort of monster that caused this?

 

Her heart thundered in her chest as she tried to will herself to look away, to deny the word before her, to do anything. But she couldn’t.

 

Traitor.

 

It had been three weeks ago when she had first done it, an honest mistake that continued snowballing without end. She should just confessed everything, and been done with it, but she couldn’t. Not now that she had finally become friends with Her.

 

Rose, a delicate flower of womanhood, that had blossomed even despite the rough world that she grew up in. A beautiful woman, with silken flowing locks of brown, a dusky hue dusting her skin, and the most warm and captivating brown eyes she had ever seen.

 

Traitor.

 

At least, that’s what she had thought before getting to know her, and that’s when the truth came out. She wasn’t soft, sweet, pure, and innocent, not at all like she presented herself, but instead she was… dangerous, wild, and so much more. Swallowing against the welling panic in her chest she tried to slow her breathing, to actually keep air in her lungs against the terror clenching her heart.

 

Why had she agreed to this?

 

She was supposed to just say that she was busy, and go do other things tonight, but then Rose had looked so disappointed that she couldn’t get the words out. Instead she agreed to come to this, and now she was stuck here, unable to do anything.

 

Traitor.

 

She was a traitor, a liar, and worst of all, pathetic.

 

She hated this, she hated everything that Rose insisted on doing, and kept doing it with a smile, all because it made Rose smile at her in that special way. Her heart would thunder, and she could feel her cheeks burning at every single glance she was given.

 

So that was why she found herself here, isn’t it? She was weak.

 

She should have just stuck to the sports that she enjoyed, and never dared to dream that she had a chance with such a beauty as Rose. Really, a Lily like herself daring to dream that she could share even a moment of time with such a beauty was the height of follow, and this was her divine punishment.

 

Maybe if she had confessed, and let Rose reject her properly, she could be watching the finals instead of dying. Because she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to see tomorrow’s light. Over the dripping sound of the blood oozing out of the wall and falling to the ground, she could almost hear the lilting tones of Rose’s voice filled with concern calling out her name.

 

Traitor.

 

That’s right, she was a traitor, and this was her penance for betraying Rose’s friendship. This was just the beginning of her torments, wasn’t it? The pain in her chest, the stabbing wound piercing her heart with millions of shards of glass, slowly grinding it into a fine paste.

 

She deserved this.

 

Closing her eyes did no good, since the word was burned into her eyes now, and she knew that she would never stop seeing that word until she died. She just couldn’t breath in the confines of this room, and couldn’t move to try and break free, her arms and legs just wouldn’t move at her commands.

 

Traitor.

 

Ah, there were footsteps now, thundering as they drew close. Maybe they were going to grant her mercy and kill her swiftly instead of letting her suffer in this hell? She didn’t deserve to be free.

 

As light spilled into her eyes, she found herself momentarily blinded, with one word still standing out even as the white overwhelmed her.

 

Traitor.

 

“Lily! BREATHE!” Rose’s voice cried out as she felt hands on her, prying the VR headset off of her face and the game controller out of her hands. Her hands were like stone holding the device that she was surprised it hadn’t snapped in half already.

 

The title of the game she’d been playing was on the screen before her as she stared directly ahead while gasping for air that couldn’t fill her lungs. She was never good with scary stuff like horror movies and games, but Rose had wanted to try this, and being the athlete, she had boasted that it would be no problem for her.

 

Traitor.

 

Yes, it was just a game named Traitor, but it was blocked off by concerned and panicked brown eyes staring directly into hers. She knew that there were tears leaking from them, even as they wouldn’t shut close. She couldn’t handle it.

 

One simple creature had jumped out and attacked her, and she froze up, and not even the warmth of Rose’s hands on her face could bring her back to life. “Lily, listen to me, it’s not real…”

 

She knew that on some level, but it had been far too real, far too… she had been there and that thing had… with the teeth, and the…

 

Rose pinched her nose off and the next thing she knew her lips were sealed with Rose’s and she felt air entering her lungs for the first time in several minutes. Once Rose broke away from the life-saving kiss, she let out a shuddering cry of terror, but could keep breathing as she curled on herself and began sobbing.

 

“Shh, it’s okay Lily, you’re safe,” Rose cooed softly as she cuddled the sobbing Lily to her chest, brushing her short black hair back as she stroked her back softly. “I… I didn’t know it would happen…”

 

The sound of the system powering down barely registered as she found herself focusing on breathing, knowing that her survival was the key to being able to talk about this. What… what happened? She just couldn’t do anything right there.

 

“I’m sorry… I… I didn’t want to ruin your fun Rose,” she explained between breaths as she calmed down, enjoying the embrace. This was it, this was when Rose told her that their friendship was over, and she was a worthless traitor.

 

Her thoughts were torn asunder as she felt Rose tilt her head back, and give her a tender smile full of love and support. “Lily, if you aren’t a fan of this, you should have told me… It’s not fun for me if you aren’t having fun either.”

 

Rose leaned in closer, their eyes locked as she came nearer. Stopping just far enough away that she could feel the breath brushing against her lips everytime Rose exhaled, she heard the other girl speak up. “Next time, we’ll do what you want.”

 

She could only think of one thing she wanted to do, and as her heart began racing, she couldn’t help but feel it. Her body was the real traitor here.


	37. Man's Road

Happy Father's Day to those that celebrate, and a good day to those that don't.

This week we traded songs the other had written for previously.

Logo did [Emperor's New Clothes](https://youtu.be/7qFF2v8VsaA) by Panic! at the Disco. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39705009#workskin)

This week I chose [Man's Road](https://youtu.be/0wQ0j33bTd4) by America from The Last Unicorn Soundtrack

* * *

Cinching her armor into place, she took a deep breath and studied the road before her with a fondness most wouldn’t consider. Long ago, this road had a name, but none live now that knew it then. Instead it was just known as Man’s Road, and it would take her to the future.

 

Once Man had lived with them, an equal part of the world, but when they began to favor science over magic, there was some sort of schism that formed, until they faded from existence until it became more myth than history. And yet, she believed that there were those among Man that sought them out, and so she had applied to become a Veil Walker.

 

Her duty was fairly simple, walk along the Man’s Road, which was a border between the realms where the Veil was the weakest, and report any breaches or oddities coming from the realm of Man. But as she rubbed the tips of her ears, the elf knew her personal mission was just as clear, but far more complex. She wanted to see a Man herself and bring them over if she could.

 

Smiling, she touched the leather scroll tube which had the incantation she worked out to opened a small portal between the realms. If the theory paid off, and after a hundred years of research it had better, she would be able to bring one human through to her realm and actually talk with them!

 

Letting out a soft giggle, she began the walk, peaking into each thinning of the Veil curiously as she tried to spot a Man. There was a field of cows in one, an empty plain with only some buzzards picking at a carcass in the distance in another. Each thin point of the Veil gave her a glimpse into another part of the world, but it seemed like it was either too crowded for her to make the attempt, or there were no Man available to lure through.

 

It wasn’t until she got towards the end of Man’s Road that she saw something that seemed promising. It was a fairly abandoned street, but she could see some sort of verbal argument going on at the other end. One Man was loading up some sort of two wheeled vehicle with bags of some sort, while another was shouting from an upper window of the building. Oddly enough, another Man would appear from various other buildings, only to go inside shortly after.

 

Seeing an opportunity for what it was, she stepped back and checked to make sure another Walker wasn’t nearby. Seeing the coast being clear, she unfurled her scroll and began the incantation, tracing runes in the air that spread out over the area. Once an archway was formed, she dared to look up at her spellwork, just in time to dive out of the way as the two wheeled vehicle came screaming through the gateway at her with a screaming Man on its back.

 

Getting up from the roll, she looked at the trail that the vehicle took and paled as she realized the scraps of paper currently fluttering in the breeze were none-other than the scroll she needed to send the Man back to their realm.

 

Rushing after them, she never noticed the Man slowing down in the field and turning off the engine of the vehicle they were on. She had to focus on the slips of paper, lest they escape her and trap the Man in her realm for far longer than a single conversation. Oh, she was going to be in trouble if this was discovered. Perhaps this was why her instructors had always told her to make copies of her spellwork, especially if she wasn’t sure it would work.

 

Her chase was cut off as she tripped and rolled down a hill, most of the pieces of the scroll clutched to her chest as she took the spill. At the base of the hill, she laid there catching her breath as she willed herself to not cry in frustration. It wouldn’t do any good, and she would still lose the papers that scattered away, but worst of all, it would prove to the long-earred high elves that she was just a silly, weak little wood-elf with aspirations of power she shouldn’t dream of.

 

Suddenly, the blue of the sky was cut off by a sea of brown hair hanging down in front of a beautiful and concerned tanned face. But what stood out most was that the eyes didn’t glimmer in the shadow cast by the head, and the ears were even less pointed than her own. “Are you okay?”

 

Blinking her eyes, she tilted her head and tried to understand the strange language the Man was speaking to her. A gloved hand reached down and offered to help her up, which she clasped at the wrist before allowing herself to be pulled up. Dusting herself off, she marveled at the being before her. It was a Man! A real, live Man!

 

Just a couple heads shorter than her, with blunted ears, and a feminine version if the swell of the chest and hips were to be believed. Walking around the Man, she studied ‘her’ for the time being, muttering softly to herself. The Man reached out once again to stop her after four circuits, clasping her on the shoulder. “Hey, can you tell me what happened? One minute I’m leaving my ex-girlfriend’s place, and the next I’m nearly running over someone in the middle of a freaking field. Where are we?”

 

There it was, more of that fascinating language of Man, she hoped that she would be able to learn more about it in the future. But instead of trying to puzzle it out, she frowned as she realized that her plans hadn’t accounted for them not being able to speak Sylvan, since it was so Common. Oh, fewmets, she should have gotten that language spell when she had the chance last year.

 

Giving her what she hoped came across as a friendly smile, she pulled out a map and unfurled it across a tree trunk, tucking the scraps of the return spell into a pouch for hopeful salvage later. Taking one figure, she pointed to Man’s Road, about thirty bow shots from the nearest town of Silverdell. Tapping, she hoped that it was telling the Man where they were, at least that would have been her first question after transitioning from such a strange location to Man’s Road suddenly.

 

The look on the Man’s face, was worrisome, since they grew a few degrees paler since they first met, her curiously brown eyes narrowing in thought. Leaning against the vehicle, she seemed to be trying to process something. While she was doing that, Glordrial took the chance to study what the Man science had created. It looked like a mechanical horse, using wheels of a cart instead of legs for motion. There was a shiny black and red helmet resting on the back, and judging by the brown strands sticking off the back her new Man friend must of been wearing it.

 

Sensing motion from said friend, she turned to look at her with a kindly smile as she pointed to herself. “Glordrial,” she explained, before holding out her hand towards the Man.

 

“Oh fuck,” the Man stated as she scrubbed her hands over her face.

 

“O’fukk,” Glordrial echoed with a smile as she pointed at the Man, curling her hand back, she indicated herself again. “Glordrial.”


	38. You and Me

Hey everyone, this week's song is from Oliver and Company. The title is [You and Me (Good Company)](https://youtu.be/RN2IcbUWS-Y). This brings us back to Marina and Jasmine, here are the previous chapters if you need a refresher. ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), [3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29293914), [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094), [5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081), [6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31350669), [7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31922250), [8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33267582) and [9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33461475))

Logo did the [Hobbit Drinking Medley](https://youtu.be/iUKjJn0rOec) by Peter Hollens and Hank Green. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39705363#workskin).

* * *

 

Marina closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the cool night air, walking along a path outside of the dorms. It had been a few weeks since the first meeting of S.A.G.A. that she attended, and she couldn’t believe how much they were helping her. She had made some acquaintances that understood her struggle, and Desmona had confessed that the meeting had given her some things to think over herself. Which was good right? It was about growing to accept yourself to being the grand tale that was your life, so helping allies grow as well was just as good in her mind.

 

It was the Lord’s guiding light working through people after all.

 

Faintly she could smell the lingering scent of flowers, which had closed hours ago, as she paused outside of the garden she did some work on to earn a little spending money. It was in full bloom during the day, and she wished she dared to invite Jasmine to come with her sometime to see the fruits of her hard work. But she couldn’t ever find the words.

 

Shaking her head free of those dreams, she turned to walk away, when she saw a familiar form leaving the rehearsal hall, and seemed to be coming towards her. It looked like it was once again time to be the friend, instead of what she really wished to be. A few paces away, she began making out music in the air; a faint and delicate melody that tickled the back of her memory as Jasmine arrived. “Hey! Marina, it’s been a while!”

 

True, it had been a couple days, but that was the busy life of college students, wasn’t it? But for some strange reason the idea that Jasmine had missed her still set her heart fluttering, even if she knew she was just a friend to the girl.

 

“Yes, it has. I’m sorry, I was busy with classes, and work and we just didn’t sync up…”

 

“Oh, don’t take all of the credit here,” Jasmine teased with a devilish smirk as she let out a laugh. “I’ve been late with rehearsal every night, and up early to study for things.”

 

“But we have here and now to walk and talk, don’t we?” Marina offered with a faint blush, and if she hadn’t looked down, she might have noticed the blush building on Jasmine’s cheeks, or the slight shocked expression.

 

“That we do… and the music filling the air,” Jasmine offered thoughtfully as she stood up straight, and offered out a hand towards Marina. “Can I have this dance?”

 

The swelling of the music seemed timed perfectly as Marina noticed the hand just in front of her vision, gently inviting her to take it and let herself be swept away by fantasy. Biting her lower lip, she tried to will herself to refuse, to not take that step and break the bonds of friendship they had. Instead, she found her hand landing on the offered fingers, and herself being pulled forward into a slow dance. Neither of them knew any actual steps, if the song had any, but together they danced. Just swirling around the courtyard in the middle of the night as the music escaped from the rehearsal halls.

 

This had to be a dream, she couldn’t really be dancing here with Jasmine, right?

 

The pain in her toes as she stubbed them against Jasmine’s put a lie to that refusal of her brain to accept reality. Here she was, dancing with Jasmine, the pair of them just smiling as no words were said. It seemed like neither was very perfect at dancing, but together they worked something out. Together: it was such a strange sensation to feel herself moving in tandem with someone so perfectly, and yet to know her heart wanted to be so much closer.

 

It was just Jasmine, her friend after her own emotions and actions prevented them from being friends for so long. Dear, sweet, patient Jasmine, a beautiful flower that grew up and shone with an inner light. It was a delicate breath of sweet fragrance in an otherwise dull life. She began to find herself becoming addicted to the life Jasmine brought with her.

 

But on the other side of the coin, Jasmine was so much more than she had seen from a distance, and each thing she found out made her fall in love all over again. Even a month ago, she would never have imagined Jasmine would actually come up to her in the middle of the college courtyard and offer her a dance just because some music was playing.

 

She was loud and boisterous, studious and a bit of a dork at times, but she loved being in the spotlight, shining for all the world to see. And to Marina that was amazing.

 

The fading of the music brought her back to reality, just as Jasmine dipped her down at the end of the dance. Regaining her feet, the pair looked at each other, staring into the eyes of the other with a strange mirrored expression of happiness tinged with some echo of expectation. Slowly Jasmine leaned in, and cupped Marina’s cheek gently.

 

Oh, if that didn’t send electrical pulses through her body, just from the contact alone, she doubted anything short of a mains could do that to her. Jasmine was holding her, in a near lover’s embrace, staring into her eyes as the last note of the song still hummed in their ears. Marina could almost swear she felt Jasmine’s heart matching her own thundering, racing rhythm.

 

“Marina… I… I know that you might not accept this,” Jasmine stated softly as she locked Marina’s eyes with her own, a slight hint of fear coloring the usually confident expression. “You are your own person, and I can still be your friend after this. But I want to be something more.”

 

That jolted her out of her dreamlike haze, her own eyes widening as she realized that she was hearing the words she’d longed to hear for nearly half a decade by this point. “Jas… I…”

 

“No,” Jasmine rebuffed her, reaching up to rest a finger against Marina’s lip. “Please, let me finish, before I lose my nerve.”

 

Getting the nod from Marina, Jasmine took a deep breath and seemed to summon something from the depths of her heart. “I know you are religious, and respect that. I never could get into it, and I know you respect me for it as well. It’s one of the many things that make me realize how lucky I am to have been blessed with a chance to be your friend. But lately…”

 

As Jasmine trailed off, the brunette resisted the urge to interject, to declare her own feelings for her, but instead she waited as she was asked. It didn’t take long before Jasmine continued. “Lately, I’ve come to realize my feelings for you run deeper than any friendship I’ve ever had before. I know that you may not return them, but… I had to be honest before you. If you cannot accept them, if I make you uncomfortable, tell me. I will stop them.”

 

“Don’t,” Marina commanded in a voice she couldn’t believe was her own. “Don’t ever hide your feelings from me.”

 

“I won’t… but… do yo-” Jasmine started, before Marina lunged forward and did something she’d wanted to do for months now. She didn’t know kissing could feel this good, and she knew she’d have some things to confess later. But she was sure that Jasmine would understand.

 

Judging by the hand at the base of her neck, gently holding her in place, she got a good feeling Jasmine would understand quite well.


	39. American Pie

This week Logo did Within Temptation's [Our Solemn Hour](https://youtu.be/Q4so4uAjY3M). [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39705555#workskin).

I did [American Pie](https://youtu.be/uAsV5-Hv-7U) by Don McLean, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

 

A thin trail of smoke listlessly drifted into the sky from the end of the cigarette hanging from her lips as she observed the ruined remains of what had once been a bastion of happiness and joy. Taking a deep drag, she shifted from the desolation and looked towards the sky where They would come from. It had been three years since their arrival was proclaimed by silence. She couldn’t even remember what the justification had been for that proclamation, but she knew that everyone knew what it was.

 

The banning of music was a blow to the very core of the nation before it was revealed just how deep the effects ran. Perhaps if they had listened to the ones that sounded the most crazy, they would have avoided this. The whisper of wings in the air made her snuff the cigarette and slip into the bastian silently. There was at least one of those things around, and she hadn’t survived them for three years just to let them catch her now.

 

Inside the building was a magnificent scene, with bits of colored glass forming depictions of ancient tales, but what she was looking for was something much more important. Entering the old building, she embraced the stillness and looked around. They tended to avoid these places, unless someone led them there that is. The last bearer of the Book of Love had said it was here that they left it for protection, and inside of it would be the way to drive these bastards from whence they came.

 

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, the intrepid explorer walked past the rows of pews, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of the church. Pausing before a beam of light, she held her breath and listened. The wings were no longer flapping outside the building. Instead something else drove daggers of ice through her very core. The soft clicking of claws on the stone steps that she had been standing on not moments before told her that she had been spotted, and soon she was going to have a VERY bad day.

 

Moving as swiftly as possible towards the altar at the front of the room, she peels the key bearing string from her pocket and scanned for the tabernacle that the old priest had told her bore the book she was looking for. It was the one place in the entire building that was seemingly untouchable by Them.

 

Getting to the enclosure, she slipped the key in and began turning it as the man had told her to. Twice around, for the two barriers of the Lord from the Mortal Plane of Sin, and she saw a bowl of dried up husks of what had once been edible wafers, and a single book. Licking her lips, she pulled it out and frowned as she realized what it was.

 

Had the old man lied? Was this really the Book of Love? There wasn’t anything inside of it by lines of music and words to sing. Having once been a piano player and singer, before the government banned all music, she could read it. But it was useless. It wouldn’t save the world from Them!

 

Whirling on heel, she was about to fling the book away when she was reminded of exactly why she had been trying to rush. Seven feet tall, leathery bat-like wings out of their back, fire-engine red skin, and a smile full of knives. “A Shredder…”

 

“Yes… that is what you humans call us,” the voice of frosty poison purred out as the clawed feet approached, through some unseen resistance slowing each step. “Such a quaint and simple name for one such as I. Now tell me my dear, what is your name? I would know my next plaything. I haven’t had one since my last broke months ago…”

 

Taking a step back, she felt her back pressed against the tabernacle and remembered the words of the old Priest, she didn’t know what else she could do. “M-Melody,” she stammered out as she held the book before her defensively. “I… I will not be your plaything.”

 

“No?” this seemed to amuse the creature of razors and death. “And what do you think you can do to stop me? You humans are such prideful creatures, I simply must know what you plan to do.”

 

“I… I have the Book of Love, and I… I will…” she tried to explain as the fire in the creature’s eyes erupted in an expression that none had reported ever seeing before. “I will violate the laws of this land to read of it and drive you back!”

 

She knew that look, the look was something she knew she wore many times, it had been the exact expression her mother had worn when a Shredder had plucked her away from her family. Fear.

 

Opening the book, she found a song at random and took a deep breath before singing as steadily as she could. She didn’t even know what the words were, since it was just simple pronunciation guides for English speakers set to the notes, but she felt something. A growing power inside of her as she stared straight into the burning eyes of the Shredder.

 

Then she realized, it wasn’t that the eyes were growing dimmer, but rather that she herself was glowing with a power she couldn’t place. Despite the shock, she found something inside of her forcing her to continue the song while a ringing sound filled the air. It seemed to be a mix of the ancient metal bells reverberating with the force of the song, the dusty organ springing to life with music, some type of brass instrument, and a chorus of wordless voices echoing her song back to her.

 

The Shredder seemed to be pinned in place, searching for the origins of the rest of the music, panic and terror flashing across their face, before they clapped hands over their ears and screeched with agony. They seemed to be sinking into the floor, or rather the floor was falling away as whatever power it was that was in the song began to lift Melody into the air. The music began to crescendo, her voice booming like she was singing into a microphone, before a thunderous clap rent the air and the ceiling collapsed in on itself. A bolt of white light blinded her for a moment before she found herself staring at a muscular woman.

 

She was easily as tall as the Shredder, but her wings were that of a massive eagle, each feather gleaming with more light than the room could hold. Spinning around her were burning winged wheels of eyes that she glanced at before flicking one of her deep brown hands towards the Shredder.

 

A second later the wheels were spinning around the Shredder, engulfing it in blue and white flames as it let out another unearthly shriek. That seemed to snap whatever magic was holding Melody in the air, as she began to plummet. A wave of exhaustion struck her like a tidal force as she fell, feeling as if she didn’t care about shattering her body on the rows of pews before.

 

Then there was warm, strong arms encircling her, and lowering her to the ground much more gracefully. Forcing her head to turn, she found herself looking at the smiling face of the winged woman that had controlled the wheels that had saved her from the Shredder. “Be not afraid my singer, I am Harmony.”

 

“Harmony… nice… ‘m Melody,” she muttered before blackness took her. Yeah, this would make sense if she woke up, right?


	40. Can't Help Falling in Love

This week Logo did [Caffeine](https://youtu.be/MrW6JpeRc8Q) by Jeff Williams & Casey Williams (featuring Lamar Hall). [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39705648#workskin).

I did [Can't Help Falling in Love](https://youtu.be/X648fP2c-zs) by or3o, a Monika Cover for Doki Doki Literature Club. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

It was nearly instant, the feeling of her heart racing when their eyes met across the crowded room. She knew before her cheeks started burning with an internal heat that this was meant to be. She couldn’t help it, but this delicious feeling had to be a sin for how good it felt.

 

Weaving her way through the crowded room, she didn’t remove her eyes from her target. They were shorter than her, probably only by a couple inches, but their hair was several inches shorter, and the emerald eyeshadow flames around her shimmering green eyes promised to burn themselves into her very soul, while the auburn waves of her short cropped hair were pulled up into a very neat little bun. It was both endearing and enticing to see her like this.

 

She had felt something with her before, a small inkling of something being there, that grew every time they hung out together. But here, in this ball, it was too much for her to take. She had to take the risk, no matter what wiser heads might advise. Getting closer, she could hear her voice, talking to their friend and joking about something. But it wasn’t quite the same as it was before, it was almost musical. A siren’s call over the din of the dancehall.

 

Finally she could make out the rest of her, the black dress was streaked with dark forest green stitching, the light rippling off the two colors to create a mesmerizing effect, as well as show off the muscles of the shorter frame. She knew that despite the size, and lack of interest in sports, the woman before her could lift her up with ease. The thought made her heart do a double tap, and she knew she was lost.

 

“Robyn! You made it!” she called out, putting her tanned hand on the other woman’s shoulder, and smiling as she was greeted with the brilliant smile.

 

“I wouldn’t miss your birthday party for the world Princess,” Robyn answered lightly, the teasing nickname causing shivers to ripple through her spine. She dared not think of what hearing her say her real name would do to her. “I left your gift with the others on the table.”

 

A quick glance towards where the girl was pointing confirmed that there was one gift wrapped in the favorite light blue paper that Robyn was famous for using for any gift nestled amongst the other gifts. As always it had an oval shape, something that everyone had taken to calling Robyn’s Eggs. The eggs were always thoughtful and creative, and she couldn’t wait to see what had been given to her.

 

Her musing was interrupted as Robyn leaned up slightly to whisper in her ear, “Save me a dance later Princess, please.”

 

The soft, husky tone was no different than normal, but her heightened nerves were burning with desire as she wanted nothing more than to let Robyn take her hand right now and drag her onto the dancefloor. If she’d asked, she’d have given her heart without blinking.

 

Perhaps she already had.

 

“See ya later Princess,” Robyn offered as she gave her a wave, heading towards the snack table. She was doomed.

 

And judging by Ace’s smirk, he knew every single hopelessly corny and romantic thought she ever had in her life about their mutual friend. He slowly looked towards Robyn, before returning to her and giving her a devious little smirk. One that promised a lot of trouble for her in the future. “Well… well… well… looks like you have it bad for our little birdy…”

 

“Sh-shut up Ace,” she tried to sound more solid than she actually felt, but it was probably ruined by her blush and the nervous fidgeting of her dress. She should have worn something more elaborate, something that Robyn would have mentioned.

 

Ace leaned against the wall, watching her steadily for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “It’s your birthday, so I’m going to give you a touch of advice. She won’t ask you first.”

 

As he turned to walk over by Robyn, she could feel her heart stop.

 

Did… did that mean that Robyn might say yes? Could she stay near her if she confessed her feelings? It wasn’t like she could help these emotions, after all. Robyn was her friend, and seemed to be pretty cool, even if she didn’t date. They were friends.

 

Friends told each other things like that, right?

 

She did promise her a dance later, all Laura had to do was simply ask. That seemed like such a terrifying precipice to leap from though. If she asked, and Robyn rejected her, would that end their friendship? Would she never get help with her homework again? Would they not have movie nights that lasted until dawn anymore? Would they never get the chance to spend a winter’s day baking cookies?

 

Would she be able to risk all of that for a single selfish desire?

 

Swallowing her nerves, she turned back to the party and felt the press of the world around her again, and yet it felt as if there was only one thing in the room with her. She could almost swear she could feel emerald eyes locked on her as she attempted to be a good hostess.

 

She knew what she had to do, she had to just let herself fall, but there was no parachute this time. She smiled and laughed with each new guest, and throughout the evening. She had danced several times, had her cake and opened presents. Loving the handmade plush doll of her favorite characters from the movie they always seemed to end their movie nights with. A lion and a mouse were cradled in the nest, causing her to smile instantly and let out a laugh.

 

Finally, the night wound to an end, and the guests were all leaving while her guardians started cleaning up. A coldness fell on her heart as she realized she hadn’t been able to give Robyn her promised dance, and after the thoughtful gift, she had been looking forward to the dance.

 

But even as she thought this; a soft, gentle melody began playing. Looking up, she found herself looking into Robyn’s eyes and seeing her holding out a hand towards her. “I hope that I’m not too late for that dance?”

 

“No… never…” she answered, taking the hand and letting Robyn lead her through the song. The pair of them dancing around the mostly empty dance floor happily.

 

As the song slowly faded into the final notes, she felt Robyn dip her down and whisper in a deep and husky voice, “Happy Birthday Laura.”

 

She was glad that Robyn had her, because she was pretty sure her knees were now jello, and her heart was a molten puddle somewhere around her toes. “Thank you Robyn, can I get one more gift?”

 

“I suppose you can be greedy, if it’s in my power, I will see that you get it.”

 

“I want…” she started softly, letting Robyn set her back upright, her arms around her neck as she stared into Robyn’s eyes once again. “You to be my girlfriend.”


	41. We Know the Way

Hello faithful readers,

This week I did my update to [We Know the Way](https://youtu.be/ubZrAmRxy_M) from Moana, performed by Opetaia Foa'i, and written by Lin-Manuel Miranda.

Logo did [Want You Gone](https://youtu.be/dVVZaZ8yO6o) from Portal 2, by Jonathan Coulton. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39705885#workskin).

* * *

 

The steady thrum of the engines could be felt through the seat as the captain of the Kamikaze as she stared out the viewport of the ship. Reaching up to the chain hung about her neck, she couldn’t help but smile as the cold ship came upon the colony world. She could almost feel the tiny seed captured within respond to her with warmth and comfort.

 

They had done it, they had finally found their way to the planet that home had once told them was awaiting them. She was the fourth captain of the Kamikaze, a ship named after her ancestral language that she barely remembered from her lessons. But the chain about her neck was a gift that had been passed from parent to child when they became captain.

 

Now, six day cycles before her thirtieth anniversary of taking the chair, she was looking at the goal that her family had been hunting for years. Straightening in the seat, she cleared her throat and turned towards her crew and gave them a fond smile as she nodded. “We’ve made it, best be about the preparations. Science, check the readings. Medical, prepare to wake the passengers. Pioneers, time to show the way.”

 

As the bridge emptied, she sighed and turned back to the display before her. Her father had told her about their mission to find a place these people could live on, and how the families of the crew had agreed to live their lives of the ships to ensure that goal could be met. And now that it was here, she couldn’t believe it.

 

The soft padding of boots on the deck alerted her to the arrival of her daughter, the leader of the Pioneers. “We’ve made it.”

 

“That we have Gaia,” the captain answered with a smile as she turned to look at her daughter. She was tall and strong, with solid muscles under her uniform. She was so proud of her, and her birth mother would have loved to see this day. It was so painful to think that she wasn’t here to see it. And yet, this was to be a day of celebration, a voice in the back of her mind whispered.

 

Gaia turned to her, the green-streaked black hair drifting down over the undercut she preferred. “My people are ready to disembark on your orders captain.”

 

“Gaia… your parents would have been so proud of you today,” she explained as she moved towards her, reaching up to the clasp at the back of her neck. “You and your people are going to see things no other human has before, set foot on soil that no other human has touched before. It is time for you to take the hope of Earth.”

 

“M-mother?” Gaia gasped as she watched the necklace she’d seen since childhood around her mother’s neck removed and held up to show a tiny seed in a crystal of suspended animation, supported by the clasp that doubled as a battery and control system.

 

Smiling, the captain picked up her hand and lifted it to clasp the necklace before releasing the chain. “Keep it with you, and keep it alive. We have born that from Earth, and it is to remind us of the home we had left behind. You will see much on that planet, and have many tales to tell, but know that I and your other parents just want to ensure that you come back to us safe.”

 

“I promise, I will keep my family safe as well,” she agreed, her eyes misting over as she slipped the chain on, tucking the seed into the top of her uniform. The crews had blended into one family somewhere along the way, and thus it seemed like the ship was their home more than the Earth they’ve only seen in pictures. But it was time for their home to make landfall.

 

“Go now, be with your team, I will make the announcement when we begin the landing process. We have a lot of families to get settled on a brave new world. You and your Pioneers will have to help them find food and be ready when whatever this planet throws at us rears its head.”

 

“Yes Captain, and thank you,” she offered before saluting and turning away. Once the door shut, the Captain smiled and turned to look out of viewport once more. Tears began stinging her eyes as she felt her emotions swelling once more. It had been so long that she had been the Captain, and as the years advanced, she had lost more of her generation to death. She had been the youngest once, but now her snow-white hair and wrinkled skin served to remind her of the years that had passed into history.

 

“We did it my loves,” she whispered as she settled into the seat once more and began making calculations for entry to the planet. For good or ill, she had arrived, and it was time to see what her final resting place will look like.

 

She just hoped that her second was ready for the task of running the show when she was gone, and that the following ships were on time.

following ships were on time.


	42. Gospel of Dismay

This update is brought to you by [Bendy Song (Gospel of Dismay)](https://youtu.be/2Jco30RGuHo) by DAGames.

Logo did his song to [On the Open Road](https://youtu.be/6nqWNZl3Ou4) from A Goofy Movie. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39706047#workskin).

* * *

 

A blank grey room, that was what greeted Janet as she woke up. If only she could say that this was the first time that she had awakened in such a place. But she was nothing if not honest. Shaking her head, she looked down and saw the plain cream colored sweats she had known to be there. Her captors were very efficient about that.

 

At least they used magic to change her instead of someone doing it physically.

 

“There is a word to end all others, speak the word and you shall leave. Only the Faithful shall leave,” a disembodied voice commented as she rolled into a sitting position. Great, they were back to riddles for instructions again. How wonderful.

 

She really didn’t want to put up with this shit, especially since she had a date later today. Thankfully this pocket dimension meant that she wouldn’t be late, since time flowed differently here. But she knew that if she was too long, there would be noticeable differences. So taking a deep breath, she stood up and began stretching while her mind was processing the riddle. It was something to end things, right?

 

Likely something ritualistic, because that was about the only way to ensure words would always end in the same word. That would also lend itself to the faithful part of the riddle. With a sigh, she rubbed the bridge of her nose as she realized that these people had to be thinking very ethnocentric if they considered all the world would use the same word at the end, even if they shared the same faith the world over.

 

So what were they considering the Faithful?

 

Well, considering that despite the magic, they’ve seemed to be local to her little city, she could presume they were American, and from that despite a professed neutrality towards religions, there was a safe bet to start with.

 

“Amen,” she stated with a dead tone to her voice. The echoing silence of the room following that broken only by the sound of a lock clicking open. Pushing open the door, she found that outside the door was the hallway that was always there.

 

Of course there was, it was always the same. Speak something to get out of the room, and then walk down the hallway outside. Once to the other door, she would open it to reveal her room, apartment, dorm, or whatever else she was living in. Then she’d walk through, the door would vanish, and she’d be in her room watching the clock tick to one minute after she’d laid down.

 

Convenient, but still rather annoying. So now she had something else she was doing. Instead of going to the end of the hallway, she simply sat down under the doorway and waited. Her arms folded defiantly as she glared at the hinge side of the door.

 

It felt like nearly twenty minutes later that the voice returned, for once sounding uncertain and curious instead of superior and condescending. “Uh… you’re free to go?”

 

“I know, I just chose not to,” Janet explained in a cross tone, her eyes a glare focused on the hinges, like she was trying to melt them from just the glare alone. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for whatever was to come next.

 

“You… you chose not to leave? Bu-” the voice stated awkwardly, sounding a lot younger that it had previously. If this hadn’t been going on for many years now, she would have guessed they were far younger than her. Right now, she’d put them as someone that around her age instead.

 

Cutting through the words though she let her irritation color her voice. “Inconvenient isn’t it?”

 

“Well a little bit,” the voice answered quietly, like someone not used to being scolding being called out for the first time. Janet could use this, she just had to keep her current pace or kick it up a notch.

 

“Oh, I can’t imagine how inconvenient it might be… things not going according to the plans you had set.” Oh, the sarcasm felt wonderful as she let it drip with every word she spoke. “Nothing like going to lay down for a nice night’s rest, in my bedroom at multiple places over the years, and winding up… here. Did you know that I have had many psychologist ready to declare me psychologically unsound until I showed them copies of the recording of the night you took me?”

 

“That was not my intention, I just…”

 

“JUST WHAT?!” she snapped hotly, her eyes flaring with anger and pent up frustration. She’d been putting up with this nonsense for years, and she was absolutely sick of it. She wasn’t sure what her current plan was, but it was not just going along with it. “Just what did you have planned by kidnapping me every night to play these stupid word games and ruining my sleep schedule by having me sleep a full eight hours, and then spend the extra time awake to try and keep a decent sleep schedule? Do you know what that’s like?”

 

“Well no, I can adjust the time you are returned, I thought I was helping you by not taking you away from your home for too long,” the voice offered weakly as she continued fuming, her anger practically roiling off her in waves. “I had thought that you were having fun.”

 

“Maybe at first, when I was a teenager, and it was a mystical and amazing adventure, but I’m an adult now. This throws my sleep off so that if I had a normal job, I would be ready for bed somewhere around lunchtime for most people,” she explained, still annoyed, but with less bite, since the voice seemed remorseful. “Look, if you want to keep playing this game, could we maybe just set up a schedule or something? I have a date tonight that I’m going to struggle staying awake for because of this.”

 

“Oh! I can give you a potion to help with that!” the voice exclaimed, before it seemed to pause and consider the rest of her words because before she could retort and point that out, it returned. “I suppose that makes sense… I think that you’ve been more than fair for so long. I can work with you.”

 

“Fine, let’s meet face to face and talk.”

 

“I… would ra-”

 

“Face-to-face, or you leave me alone,” Janet demanded crossly as she tapped her finger in annoyance.

 

The voice was silent for a moment. Then two.

 

She feared that it had abandoned her, before the door at the end of the hallway opened, and a slumped forward figure slipped in, holding a bottle of something that looked like pure maple syrup in the dim light. But that wasn’t what caught her attention the most.

 

No, it was the face of her captor, one she’d known for most of her life, and suddenly pieces began falling into place. She’d always been in the background of her classes and life in general. She had always noticed that the girl would be watching her, catch that she’d been spotted, and turn away or hide behind a book with a heavy blush on her cheeks. This girl was shy, awkward, and seemed just a step removed from reality.

 

If she was used to magic regularly, perhaps that wasn’t too far from the truth. Standing up, she felt awkward, being a full half a foot taller than her captor, who just held out the potion bottle. “L-let’s go to your place, we can talk there…”

 

“Sounds fair… what is your name?”

 

“Aurwyn.”


	43. Ever Lasting Night

This week I wrote to the song [EveR LastinG NighT](https://youtu.be/_4XWMm1O9bo) by the characters of Vocaloid 8.

Logo did [Go Get Your Gun](https://youtu.be/FVONNMvF-Ds) by The Deer Hunter. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39706377#workskin).

* * *

 

Once upon a time, there was a party. Of course this in and itself is not of importance, there are always party, with a beginning, a middle, and of course an end. At least, that was the plan for this party.

 

It was just a simple little gathering. Music played, drinks flowed, food was prepared and eaten, and dancing occurred. However, upon the stroke of midnight, something strange occurred that many would not remark for many hours later. The twelfth and final chime never rang.

 

The party did not stop, nor even slow in the slightest. Yet, there was something different about it. Food and drink would be consumed, and then seconds later reappear as if it had never been touched. Songs would play, and play, and play, but the clock would not move. In fact, outside of the party, the world seemed stopped, for a bat hung in the air outside the window, silhouetted by the full moon.

 

It started small, with one party goer, having no taste for alcohol, being in better control of their faculties noticing the oddities growing. And then when others would sober and still the sun did not rise, nor the bat move, that is when they realized something strange was occurring. The party’s music continued playing, the same set of songs on an infernal repeat.

 

Some decided to try and escape, opening the main door, only to reappear where they had been mere moments ago, disoriented and confused. Their tales of endless tunnels and rushing lights not thrilling the others.

 

After days of the same songs playing on an endless repeat, and exhaustion from not being able to enjoy a single quiet moment of peaceful slumber, others began to grow desperate. Some attempted more permanent means of escape, ending their lives in whatever means they had at hand. When they returned, they were broken and empty husks that spent hours crying-out the frustration and cursing the heavens. Yet no reprieve came.

 

The host sat upon the floor, his back in the corner as he watched his party enter its seventh week of endless night. His eyes drifting to the ancient clock that refused to budge its hands to move the night along. To grant them the release from this hell. The thought of the hands not moving played over in his head.

 

Why if they would not move, he would simply make them.

 

Standing up, he began arranging for a way to reach up to the hands. His first effort was getting a few of the other men to drag a table over and then standing on it was a resounding failure as the table lasted only long enough for him to climb up on it before reverting back to the wall it had been resting against, once more covered in snacks and drink.

 

The pain in his back didn’t even last long enough for him to fully register it before he was back in the hall, standing in the middle of a dance, his partner off resting on the far wall. Turning to glare at the clock he tried to puzzle an escape. Meanwhile, four others lifted a fifth to try and let him give it a chance. But his attempt was thwarted as a flash of purple over the face of the clock repelled his hand.

 

Gritting his teeth, he cursed whatever force it was holding them in place.

 

“Throw me into it,” he commanded, the others all glancing at him in confusion. “It is of my family’s heritage, I can reach it.”

 

After seven weeks of very little sleep, the same foods, and the same music; no one was had the prescience of mind to argue that. Eight men collected him by the arms and legs and counted down from three before heaving him through the air and into the clock face.

 

Unlike his friend, he was not repelled. Instead he saw the hands directly in front of his face, finally realizing that he was about to plow into the clock.

 

Or rather, he thought he was going into it, when instead he went through the time itself. He saw the passing of time on either side of him, grains of sands drizzling down out of hourglasses, hands spinning wildly around the faces of the clocks they rested, calendar pages fluttering off into nowhere.

 

Eventually, he felt his inertia slowing and he came to a stop, hovering in the air, and looking around at dozens of measures of time, all teasingly out of reach. “Your party wasn’t very fun,” a voice behind him stated, causing him to whip around and come face to face to something he never expected to see.

 

It was himself many ages into the past.

 

“We were having a splendid time,” he countered with a refined manner of his father, one that caused his younger self to frown and shake his head.

 

“No, you were not.”

 

Scoffing at the dry, dead tone, he glared down his nose at the boy he had once been. “And what proof would you have of that?” he demanded, figuring this farce would complete one way or another.

 

The child turned to look over his shoulder at the frozen party, all of them looking up expectantly at the clock the host had been thrown at. Several beats of the heart thundered in the silence that followed the turn, before the child returned to him with a cocky little smile of a self-satisfied brat. “Because Geoffrey, time flies when you’re having fun.”

 

With that, the boy snapped his fingers and Geoffrey was back in the room, crashing through a table with a shout. The rest of the party turned to him in shock, their fears confirmed as he rose up, wiping cake off his face with a scowl. “Fun… hmm?” he mused before looking at the wad of frosting and smooshed cake in his hand.

 

Well, he’d always wanted to try this, and it was supposed to be fun.

 

Winding back, he picked a target, a terrible gossip he’d only invited because their parents were work partners. Honestly, this was going to feel great if it worked or not. The glob of foodstuff landed on her face with a solid, satisfying splat. She stared at him in undignified horror before something snapped in her and she grabbed a bowl of punch to fling at him.

 

As she splashed half of the hall, the food fight was joined.

 

It wasn’t until the first rays of dawn peeked through the window that they realized time had moved again, but by then it was hard to see from all the food covering every inch of the room, and most body parts.


	44. Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll

This week's song is [Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll](https://youtu.be/Sj5gcLDsnRk) by Abney Park.

Logo did [Centuries](https://youtu.be/LBr7kECsjcQ) by Fall Out Boy. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39706497#workskin)

* * *

Sitting up, the princess looked out over the kingdom her parents ruled over, her alabaster skin gleaming in the sunlight cast by the final vestiges of the setting Sun. It had been a day, much the same as ever.

 

She rose before the Sun with the aid of her maids, hair washed and styled despite her desires to return to the realm of slumber. And then she was taken to breakfast, where she might luck into seeing her parents joining her for a moment, but normally eaten alone.

 

The food would always be filling, and flavorful, and never lacking in variety, but she found it tasting much like wood pulp as she longed for the tender embrace of her blankets.

 

Then came lessons, which she had to sit up properly at all times, learning the same lessons of poise and posture everyday, before being granted new lessons in letters, some maths to assist in matters of the kingdom should the need arise, defensive strategies for defending the castle, playing a variety of instruments, and courtly matters such as dancing and manners.

 

Just the things to make a child, just on the cusp of becoming an adult, dance with joy, no?

 

Ah, but that was a bitter, sarcastic thing to think, and she was above such things. Shaking her head, she focused in on what would follow lunch. That was a time to move around and dance. For she had to be the belle of the ball, always the top socialite.

 

Yet, after an hour of dance, she was granted some time for her to burn off some of excess energy. From time to time, that would be spent learning archery and swordplay from the men-at-arms that were in the castle training. Other times found her dancing in new forms and patterns, mixing the stuffy traditional styles to something she could enjoy. And finally there was the times she did something that she knew to be futile.

 

She tried to escape her evening lessons.

 

Embroidery, sewing, gossip, and make-up. All rolled into a class that could laughably be called Courtly Life.

 

It was dull, it was boring, and more often than not, she could not see a purpose for it in the least. The gossip was all things she could tell just by paying attention, or about who was the suitors to desire, and other such things. Really, if she were one of her older siblings instead, she imagined it would be interesting, but she had no chance to dream of a claim to the throne, nor much of an interest to it really. But she was trapped.

 

Trapped in this gilded cage where she continued to pass through the motions of being the perfect princess, the crowning jewel of the family. She would eventually be courted and wed, as such things happened. No matter that she would rather wander those woods she could see at the edge of the kingdom, see what new life she could find for herself with her own two hands.

 

Two hands that she knew were barely callused enough to draw a child’s training bow. Too frail to heft a sword for more than a few minutes before tiring. She had been very sickly as a younger child, and it left its mark to this day, even though the healers have cleared her of all illnesses that had plagued her as a child.

 

Pursing her lips into a thin line, she found her gaze turning towards the courtyard in the center of the city where others gathered for entertainment. And that was when she saw something that caused her head to tilt slightly, and eyes to sharply focus. Dancing, but not the stuffy formal dancing of the ballroom. No, she dared say that this was more in-line with what she did when left to her own devices.

 

The dancer, with olive skin and peasant garb moved with supple grace and fluid motions that she found mesmerizing and intoxicating to watch. She couldn’t hear the music, and yet she could feel her heart meeting the beat. What was it about this wild woman that held her ensorcered so? Why did she feel the desire to know her? To speak with her?

 

Tilting her head the other direction, she could almost swear that she could make out the dancer’s eyes meet her, though that was quite impossible. But that could have meant the coy smile and extra inviting waggle of fingers was intended for her, could it not?

 

Oh, she would love to…

 

But she couldn’t, she had to be the perfect daughter, to remain the prim and proper princess that her parents wanted her to be. She was a beautiful porcelain doll they could tout out when they cared, and then hide her away in the upper towers, alone and forgotten until they needed her again.

 

She barely registered the sound of the door closing behind her, enraptured by flashing eyes and swirling limbs. It wasn’t until she felt a warm, rough hand land on her shoulder, while a chin settled on her other that she realized she was not alone. Yet, it took her a goodly effort to break free of the spell she was under to turn to see her eldest brother, the crown prince, peering down into the courtyard with her.

 

“What has you so fascinated Lilith?” he asked in curiosity as his eyes took in the entire scene before them. His eyes seemed to land on something down below, and a slow, knowing smile spread on his lips. “Ah, I see. You are curious about the dancers?”

 

Blinking she turned to look back at the scene, and realized that there was more dancers surrounding Her, the girl that had captured her attention so completely. Tilting her head again, she seemed to consider it. Her silence something her brother knew as intimately as his own breath. For he seemed to hear the words she didn’t speak. “Yes, there are more than just her… It is a harvest festival today.”

 

Her eyes widened at the tone her brother gave; a knowing, teasing one that told her he knew something that she didn’t and wasn’t about ready to tell her. Turning back, she saw the smile he always wore when he had that tone, the one full of mischief and devious joy.

 

“Would you care to visit them? Perhaps meet the one that has caught your attention,” he suggested as he straightened, adjusting his clothing to be the smooth and perfect. Turning her head slightly, she tried to see if there was some tell to the plan he was hatching in his brain. But he seemed to be genuine about taking her there.

 

As she gave the barest of nods, his smile blossomed wide as he turned towards the doorway. “Be in the entry hall in a half-hour, I will have them fetched. I am sure she will be more than happy to share her dance with you.”

 

Blinking she couldn’t help but feel a bubbling warmth in her chest, as color entered her cheeks. Bowing deeply, she couldn’t help but wonder why that made her so happy. Why her brother’s phrasing haunted her mind. She would have voiced a question, but the illness had claimed her voice long ago.

 

Besides, she had only a half-hour, and she suddenly felt not nearly impressive enough for someone to see her, though she was perfectly coiffed and dressed as always. It seemed her brother had once again known her mind before she did, as he had her lady-in-waiting and stylist entering even as he exited.

 

Suddenly the half-hour didn’t seem long enough, she had so much to prepare.


	45. Bohemian Rhapsody

This week I did [Bohemian Rhapsody](https://youtu.be/fJ9rUzIMcZQ) by Queen, while Logo-Comics did[ Light 'Em Up](https://youtu.be/Z7YM9gAVeMs) by Fall Out Boy. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39706767#workskin).

* * *

 

Click, clack, clunk.

 

The sound of a pebble sliding down past him stilled the poor boy even as his body trembled from the exertion it had already suffered through. He didn’t know what had claimed his home, nor where his family was at this moment. All he knew was that the sky was growing dark above, and he had to fight his way out to escape this pit.

 

Click, clack, clunk.

 

He refused to look back at the desolation of his family’s home, focused instead upon the distant sky tinting purple as the night crept onward. He’d have to find shelter after getting to the surface, or his struggles would be short lived in the chill of the night.

 

Licking his lips, he pressed on, slowly clawing his way up the smoothest side of the crevice that had split the field on which his home had lived. Focusing on the edge of the cliff ahead of him, he fought against the protests of agony his body gave with each inch he claimed.

 

Click, clack, clunk.

 

The sound of the stones behind him continued to drive him forward as he sought the refuge of the opening of the crevice. Turning his head enough to wipe his eyes on the tattered remains of his sleeves he turned back just in time to see what he could have sworn as the silhouette of a man against the darkening sky. But when he tried to cry out, his voice failed him and he could almost swear the ground itself attempted to claim him once more.

 

“Let me go,” he demanded to the unseen forces that were dragging him back down the incline ever so slightly, but the only response he got was the same he’d been hearing for a while now.

 

Click, clack, clunk.

 

Shaking his head, he forced himself to move onward, glaring up the slope as he continued clawing his path through the rend in the Earth. He felt something inside him demand he press on, to find his freedom from this pit.

 

He had been waiting at home for his parents return when the storm had rolled in, all thunder and lightning, but strangely there was not a drop of rain to be seen. His family were but poor farmers, tending a field on the outskirts of civilization, just within the furthest boundaries the King’s guards patrolled, but they were taking the day to honor the Spirit of Green Harvests and Fertile Fields. He couldn’t remember what had drawn his parents outside, but they had seemed… strange.

 

Almost like they’d seen something that had alarmed them and hadn’t wanted to involve him. He almost let out a bitter laugh as he realized he was involved any way. “Keep it together Leo, you’re almost there,” he muttered as he found the stone giving way to softer tilled dirt with roots streaking through it. He had to be nearly there because theses were the corn stalks he’d checked for insects not but a day before.

 

Click, clack, clunk.

 

There it was again, a sound of stones behind him falling down to collide against the wooden frame of the house far behind him. He knew what he’d see if he looked back, and refused to give it the pleasure of him acknowledging it. He’d see his home broken and destroyed, the mighty wooden walls splintered, and the hearth that had warmed the meals for generations scattered.

 

His cozy loft room shattered and ruined, with all his possessions demolished save for the pack he carried on his back.

 

He would also see their cellar laid bare; roots, vegetables, and preserves smashed and destroyed save for what little he had salvaged, but the salted meat was the most bitter loss. He could feel his body aching from hunger that knew only one solution.

 

Claiming the crest of the opening he pulled himself out and rolled out, chest heaving for breath. Laying on the grass would have been peaceful, save for the chill and knowledge that mere inches away was a nearly lethal plummet.

 

Click, clack, clunk.

 

Shaking his head, he turned his head to look around, and not seeing a single sign of the man he had dreamed of seeing on his climb. Perhaps it was a devil, waiting to claim him?

 

But he had performed the ritual just as he’d been instructed by his parents!

 

He had slit that heretic’s throat upon the altar on the day of rest, the first following his eighteenth year. Whatever that heretic’s god was, he shouldn’t have been able to defile their ceremony to protect their family’s livelihood like this. Looking at the blasphemous lightning bolt talisman in his hand, he snarled wordlessly and pressed his aching body to move.

 

His parents had always said that their worship had to be a secret, or they would lose the Lady’s blessing. And with the house being destroyed, he had to move away before the guards came and found the secret that was hidden in the cellar with the food supplies.

 

Looking at the symbol he didn’t even know why he carried, he tossed it casually over his shoulder and let it fall, not even acknowledging as the sounds it made echoed through the once pastoral location.

 

Click, clack, clunk.

 

And thus did it rest against one of dozens of skulls kept at the behest of the Lady, buried under the house.

 

If he had looked back, he might have seen the silhouetted form of a man once more materialize. Might have seen the raising of a lightning bolt shaped spear.

 

But he didn’t, all he heard was a final.

 

Click, clack, clunk.


	46. Glitter & Gold

This week I am writing to [**_Glitter & Gold_**](https://youtu.be/GySIToHCPac) by Barns Courtney.

Logo did it to [**_In Too Deep_**](https://youtu.be/emGri7i8Y2Y) by Sum 41. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39706866#workskin).

* * *

“What you seek is not here traveler,” the woman’s voice stated before the visitor had even knocked upon the door, without waiting for a reply they continued. “This is a place that is not for the likes of you.”

“Be that as it may, I have been sent at the request of my Queen,” the woman stated as she lowered her hand. “Please let me say her peace, and then I shall be on my way.”

“You are flesh and bone, and come seeking the crone. Do you not know what I am?”

The visitor took a deep breath as she steeled herself for what is to come. “I know enough, I know that you are more than what those here call you. No mere witch, something more… something far grander.”

Silence.

She was about to knock again, to try and call out to the voice again, to somehow seek another bit of conversation when the door opened slowly, letting the sunlight spill into the darkness of the hovel the so-called witch claimed as her home. Taking the invitation for what it was, she pressed onward, entering the home. Stopping on the mat in front of the door, she shuffled her dust and grime covered boots on the rough surface as the door slammed shut.

“Speak your lady’s peace.”

Bowing her head, she removed a bottle of wine from the pouch at her hip and set it beside the doorway. “Her Majesty the Queen has requested your presence at the christening of her daughter, and I am to take your answer to her post haste.”

“My answer is it?” the voice whispered in her ear, causing the courier to whirl on the spot, careful to not let her boots leave the mat. She had her instructions to follow, and the Queen had been fairly adamant that she remain on the mat until invited off of it.

What she saw before her nearly stole the voice from her, and she almost pulled away in surprise. It was a being of beauty and grace, glowing white skin gleaming in the dimness of the hovel, long flowing raven locks cascading down over the ample bosom, parting to reveal abs she was certain she could do her laundry for the week on. The smooth and powerful arm muscles shifted to cradle her chin in the long and powerful fingers.

She was fairly certain that her heart was about to escape her chest from its hammering at the sight before her; for the eyes that bore into her soul carried a flame that sparked the inner fires inside her that burned her to her loins. “You left your bottle at the door,” the woman stated as she bent down to pick up the wine and look it over.

“Forgive me ma’am, that is a gift from Her Majesty Queen Aurora to you,” the courier answered with more solidity to her voice than she felt. “Free of any recompense, a gesture of goodwill and respect.”

“Ah, I remember this vintage,” the witch of the wild woods whispered as she turned the bottle slowly before turning her eyes back to burn into the curious curiously. She could feel the burning rise inside her with each passing moment as glittering sparkles of gold surrounded the hand holding the bottle. “But that is not all she sent, is it courier?”

No, it was not, and the hand slipped back into the bag at her hip once more and pulled out a loaf of bread from the royal bakeries worked by the Queen’s own hand. “She gives you this gift, to be broken in the manner you see fit.”

The head tilted slightly, before a smile curled over the curiously black lips, followed by a tinkling laugh. “Oh! Oh this is brilliant!” the magical woman laughed as she took the second gift, setting it on the table near the door. “You forget one last thing.”

“No… My Queen has said that I am to bear your message back to her and those were all she gave to give onto you. The last is from me,” the messenger answered back solemnly as she fought the urge to just submit to the power she was feeling washing over her from the ethereal beauty before and around her.

“From you is it? Please, move about freely messenger,” the spellbinding woman offered with a wave of her hand, candles springing to life to reveal a menagerie of flowers, herbs, spices, animals, and body parts she’d rather not think about lining the shelves and hanging from the rafters. “Could I offer for you to join me for a drink of this wine? It is quite the excellent vintage.”

The messenger carefully took a step off the mat, feeling a sensation of release wash over her. The queen’s warning of being tested coming to her mind as the offer was laid before her. “I would be honored, but I have not anything to trade. The gift I offer you is freely given, with no expectancy of return.”

“Well said! Well said indeed, your Queen has you well trained, come and join me in my wine. Freely shared and no expectancy of return,” the woman stated as she laughed, light glinting off a peak of white cresting through the sea of black she called hair.

“I share with you my name, and a glass of the fine vintage you have there,” she stated as she carefully took a seat, watching the woman before her carefully.

“Share away with me as you wish, and in return, I will share equal measure with you!” the woman laughed as a cozy haze settled over the room, blanketing out the smell of sulfur and brimstone that had been tickling the edges of the messenger’s senses.

“My gratitude milady, I am known as Hawke, and my gift is a simple token of thanks for a boon long since granted,” she explained reaching down her tunic to pull out a small satchel she hid on her flattened front. Inside the satchel, she pulled out a simple hand carved trinket and carefully offered it to the laughing lady. “The Queen has done great works since you saved her; this carving is my humble way of thanking you.”

In her hand was a simplistic carving, but one could see detail and love went into it with equal measure. It was obvious that it was a woman of regal bearing, the gown crafted after those of court, but it was the face that had received the greatest attention. Looking into it, one would know in an instant that this was not only Queen Aurora herself, but that the carver had spent the most time ensuring the exacting details would not fade any time soon.

“Hawke, you have such a keen eye for detail. Your gift is welcome in my home, though words would have sufficed,” the woman answered, her voice soft and quiet for the first time since Hawke had entered. Her eyes were locked on the face of Queen Aurora, tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. “I am known by many names, but your Queen gave me one that I prefer above all others. I will let you share it with us.”

“Named after the star of morning, I am Dawn,” she whispered softly as she set the lovingly carved doll on the table, before turning back to Hawke, her blackened wings furling to cover her bare body for the mortal’s sake. “Now, tell me of this christening.”


	47. Dream Come True

This week I wrote to [**Dream Come True** ](https://youtu.be/If1jeIstbJs)by Casey Lee Williams and Jeff Williams.

Logo chose [**Can't Fight the Moonlight**](https://youtu.be/TRwrbCDNWSw) by Leanne Rimes. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39706986#workskin).

* * *

 

“I don’t see what you see in her,” she stated quietly, knowing that their friend couldn’t hear them. It was pointless after all. “She’s an ice-queen, and she’ll never give you the time of day.”

 

Seeing him watching the elegant figure stride across the ballroom was sickening, especially the dopey grin they had on their face. Nothing but a smitten, lovesick fool wore that look, and it destroyed her. Every second she saw it was a new nail in her heart, because she had never taken a chance for fear of ruining the friendship between the two of them.

 

What did that ice-queen have that she didn’t? Was it the pale skin she had because she never saw a day’s labor in the burning sun? Was it the shimmering and flowing silver hair that rippled like the spring melt with every motion? So sorry she didn’t have hours to spend brushing out her hair. Perhaps it was the wealth? Even if her friend wasn’t big on material goods, being rich would have helped a lot growing up.

 

But it was not to be, not when she was a muscular and rough woman with black hair, scars and calluses in spades, and a tan that could rival leather. She was a blacksmith, and proud of it, but she was still missing one thing to be perfectly happy.

 

Her crush on her best friend had just started recently, only about a year or so ago, after they’d grown up together for nearly 18 years prior. But then the Queen’s appointed minister in town died and a new woman moved into his position. Within the span between two heart beats her friend had declared that they were in love.

 

She wasn’t going to give up, but it was painful to constantly have to swallow her pride and feelings, to hear outlandish plan after crazy scheme to get the snooty white clad ‘princess’ to even notice her friend.

 

Pulling them rod of metal out of the furnace, she slammed it down on the anvil and began the soothing song of her work. Careful, steady, and sure. Striking the rod into a curve, she began shaping the first of four shoes for the guard captain’s new horse. Losing herself into the song of creation, one might have forgiven her for not hearing the approach of someone. Nor for the dark thoughts she was dwelling on as the image of her lovesick friend gazing up at the pasty Minister while they loaded hay bales onto a wagon for transport to the southern fields for winter fodder.

 

So when she quenched the shoe and heard a gasp of surprise she nearly swung the hammer into the intruder’s face out of panicked rage. Thankfully, training in safety instilled in her by her master saved her having to explain to the judge, and worse still her friend, why the Minster’s face would have been coming out the back of her head.

 

“Oh, forgive me! I had not meant to startle you, I saw you working and came to see your quality,” the current source of her ire sang out in a light, airy voice as she tilted her head ever so slightly. The pink to her cheeks standing out as she seemed to measure the smith’s worth with a single lingering glance over her arms and broad shoulders. “You do have quite the skill with that hammer. I must presume that the rumors of your skill are justified.”

 

“I do what I can, Minister Frostburn,” she muttered softly as she lowered herself to her knee, the quenched shoe pulled free of the oil and set on the anvil safely for the time being. This woman, something seemed out of place here.

 

The woman in white hummed in thought as she prowled a few paces away, eyes focused on the woman that had nearly a foot of height on her kneeling in difference to her status for a moment before signaling her to rise once more. “Yes, I imagine you do, in all you do.”

 

The confusion she felt must have been apparent on her face as the woman let out a slightly bitter chuckle. “I suppose I do have the reputation for being aloof and cold, but as a woman in my position I must hold myself a specific way. But you know my name, and I fear I am at a disadvantage Smith…?”

 

It took a moment before she realized she was being asked for her name and cleared her throat, trying to wipe some of the grime off her hand onto the soot covered apron. “It’s Smith Adriana, of the Longhammer lineage of smiths if you track that Lady Frostburn.”

 

This seemed to amuse the Minister, who gave her a genuine smile, with dancing ice blue eyes: the very sight of which caused chills to seep into her bones despite the heat of the forge behind her. “My, how refreshing, some here know the proper address of their peerage. But Smith Adriana, I must know, does this village do patronage, or is there not enough of a demand for it?”

 

Eyes widening slight, Adriana felt her heart race. To be asked to have one serve as their Patron was a great honor, and a mark that few could afford to turn down. Swallowing against the lump of pride in her throat she spoke as truthfully as she could. “We are a touch on the small side Lady Frostburn, though to be asked in an honor itself. The crown’s representative needs but ask and we do our best to serve.”

 

“Quite so…” the woman answered with a slight frown as she looked about the shop. It seemed she had almost been… disappointed? But she had to have known the answer before asking. The village was barely large enough to require a ministry for the Crown, and even then only because of the distance to the capital. How strange.

 

“I suspect I will call upon your skill many times Smith Adriana,” the woman stated softly as she nodded to herself. Turning away she took a few steps before pausing and looking back over her shoulder with a strange look on her face. “Be ready to serve when I call, regardless of the task.”

 

Blinking, the smith bowed her head to the lady that was now running the government of their small village. What in the First Song did Arthur see in that woman?

 

Shaking her head, she turned back to the shoe to see about finishing it for the Captain, but she couldn’t shake the feeling like she’d been appraised as one might a piece of pastry at the fair; tempting, but far too expensive to indulge regularly.

 

Ah well, she hoped that she might get to work with something other than iron for once. Perhaps some copper pans or silver chalices. That’s what Patrons did for the big city smiths after all, paid them to work fancy metals.

 

She would have to talk to her master about this; it was a great boon to their smithy to even gain the notice of a distant noble like the Lady Frostburn after all.


	48. You're Gonna Go Far Kid

This week I wrote to [_You're Gonna Go Far Kid_](https://youtu.be/0DTLcR5awn0) by The Offspring.

Logo did his to the song [Roads](https://youtu.be/mdQ1E3t3Qq0) by Maury Laws, performed by Glenn Yarbrough, for the original soundtrack of the 1977 animated version of The Hobbit by Rankin/Bass. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39707208#workskin).

* * *

The little imp grinned at the angel that hovered just out of reach. “Nice work kid, I didn’t think one of your types could do this much chaos with only a few choice words.”

 

Dancing out of the divine retribution being hurled her way, she let out a laugh as the angel screamed in rage while the peace talks devolved into bloody conflict once again. The blows that would eviscerate the demon barely tickled the humans since it was pure holy energy. “Oooo so close, you’re going to go far kid,” she taunted her spaded tail flicking behind her tauntingly. “Come on; give me a name if we’re going to be dance partners.”

 

“Friedensengel,” the angel snapped as she stopped hurling the energies and stalked towards the demon. “My name is Friedensengel.”

 

The demon paused just a moment before back flipping away with a boisterous laugh ripping out of them. “THE ANGEL OF PEACE IS CAUSING A WAR! OH THIS IS RICH!”

 

“SHUT UP! And who are you? Some tarted up Succubus?” Friedensengel asked hotly as she gave chase, summoning up a spear that glowed with the same holy energy as her bolts earlier. The spear thrust forward, only to be caught and deflected by the head of a coal black mace.

 

Still smirking at the raging angel, the demon gave her a saucy wink. “Names Lilim, perhaps you’ve heard of my mother?”

 

“Daughter of Lilith, you will not prevail today!”

 

The spear was knocked away from its thrust at Lilim’s face, having been intended for right between her eyes. Seeing it streaking past, Lilim swirled around to let its momentum bleed off as she brought her mace around in a level swing at the angels back. She should have figured that she wouldn’t land a blow, but she hadn’t had fun like this in ages, and these humans were making her hunger for a bit of conflict herself.

 

“Prevail? I came to watch these pathetic mortals screw up once again, and saw your glorious contribution,” she explained as she drifted back, letting the angel regain her balance before giving her another wink. “I’m serious; I’ve seen ancient demons do less with pure intentions of malice. Beautiful work with these pathetic men, too weak to see the wisdom of including women in their council… Possibly a third world war is brewing here, and it’s all thanks to you Friedensengel. Isn’t that wonderful!?”

 

The angel growled darkly as her eyes flared with rage. Oh this was too much, and the racing of her heart, which she was surprised she could feel, in the first place, sang out just how much she was enjoying this. “Come now, where’s that peace and love spiel?”

 

“Shut. UP!” the angel screamed as she raced inward, spear surging forward as though it intended to pin her to the wall like a butterfly in a collection. Sidestepping the thrust, she lowered her mace to clip the angel’s leg and send her flipping end for end. Instead of letting her regain herself, the demon leaped on her and took the both of them to the ground. The sound of chaos and fighting from the Peace Talks echoing around the walls surrounding them as she trapped the arms under her legs, the spear yanked away by her tail being cooperative for once.

 

“Easy there Friedensengel, can I call you Frie?” she asked with a playful smile on her lips. Taking the snarl as an answer, she pressed on, “I told you: I’m not here to fight you. And while I would love to do so for a few more hours, I really don’t feel like one of us dying today. I mean, yeah, you’re my eternal enemy and all that jazz, but you’re kinda hot.”

 

“Do not even think about it betrayer,” Friedensengel growled out as she continued struggling under the weight of the demon. The smaller creature should have been easy for her to fling off, for any other angel perhaps. She was the Angel of Peace, and wasn’t used to fighting.

 

“No, I don’t think we’re ready for that type of talks, but how about a bit of peace between us? I don’t want to fight, I’m looking to watch more than anything,” she explained before reaching out and twirling the golden hair around a finger. “Look at you, such a beacon of holiness and purity. I would never dream of besmirching that. But I want to ask for a truce between us two. Can we do that?”

 

“And how should I take your word that you will not betray that truce?”

 

Pausing a moment, she pursed her lips before scooping the angel’s cheek in her hand and whispering. “I invoke the sixth rite of the Father, should I betray my word of honor, or have intention to do so until the ends of this peace talk, may he smite me where I be.”

 

The glow of holy aura around her neck, forming a collar of pure light was painful, and she would have a mark no matter what, but the look on the angel’s face was worth the discomfort. Standing up, she held out a hand to help her up, claws drawing back to reveal smooth skin instead. “Come on, I just want to watch the humans screw up. If you stop them, I don’t really care.”

 

The angel took a moment before lifting herself up off the ground with her own powers, the spear sputtering out from where it had landed and her eyes locked on the collar in disbelief. “Very well… Lilim, let us watch…”

 

“After you,” the demon answered, bowing deeply as she gestured towards the room they had started in. “The view will be all the better.”

 

“In that case, you first.”

 

“Meanie,” the demon pouted as she practically skipped back into the chaos and mayhem that the angel had started, seeing more than a few bodies on both sides. “So… think you can salvage this?”

 

“I know I can,” the angel replied haughtily as she began glowing, the sensation of peace and comfort radiating out of her and quelling the easily influenced humans below. Slowly the fighting stilled, and talks were able to resume. But that was secondary to what was going up in the rafters.

 

For once, Lilim wasn’t able to snark, or comment, instead staring in blissful awe at the radiant beauty before her. Tears were stinging her eyes, and not just from staring into what might as well have been the Sun itself for so long. No, it was the exposure to peace, something she had never known that was affecting her so.

 

Friedensengel turned to her, and drifted forward, her eyes gleaming brighter than the rest of her, causing Lilim to gasp and stare transfixed. The angel tilted her head as she considered something before reaching back and plucking a feather of light from her wings. Reaching forward, she placed it behind Lilim’s ear gently. “You’re going to go far kid, may His Peace be with you.”

 

“T-thank you Frie…”

 

“I think I like that nickname by the way…”


	49. Ode to Fury

This week I chose to work on [Ode to Fury](https://youtu.be/RROd79kpDKw) by Miracle of Sound, inspired by God of War.

Logo did [Whistle Stop](https://youtu.be/OU-Q9NXI1tU) from Disney's Robin Hood. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39707337#workskin).

* * *

Glaring into the mirrored surface of the polished shield, she forced herself to take a deep breath. She was a princess and thus had to be the diplomat, had to do what was best for her people at all costs. Her eyes focused on their reflection as they hardened, darkness creeping in from the edges, before she forced it back through sheer willpower. She could not let her anger take over, not yet.

 

Picking up the dagger she’d brought along, she pulled her long flowing hair into a single mass before slashing it away just short of her jawline. She couldn’t stand by and let her people suffer anymore. Adjusting her grip, she scraped it along the sides of her head, sheering the hair close to the skin to do what she knew was to come.

 

She could hear the bellows of pain from the fight above, her eyes set on the task she was about to perform, when the Captain of the Guard appeared on the other side of the cell door. “Princess! What are you doing? We must get you out of here!”

 

“They took my brother away already, I must save my people if I can,” she stated as she lowered the knife and turned to approach the last hope for salvation for the living. The black metal of the armor seemed to suck in the light from the torch, swelling with shadows. “I am doing what I must.”

 

“No Princess! You cannot!” the captain shouted as they rattled the cage door, “You promised to forget about that tale!”

 

“I’m sorry Cap- Justine, I did intend to forget about it,” she answered, darkness flowing into her eyes once again as she let it start to bond with her. She could feel its icy cold prescience in her mind as the scraping of the chains binding it into place rent the air. Reaching out, she placed her hand on the armor’s chest piece, tracing her family’s crest slowly, the razor sharp edges slicing open her fingers as the crimson blood lit ablaze with ancient magics.

 

“Princess, you can still stop this! You know how this will end, please do not let the fury consume you!” the captain pleaded as she moved around the cage to try and grab the key from the table where she’d left the dagger. “You know what they will do should The Darkness return to the field of battle!”

 

“I have silenced the cry for so long, I cannot let others take the blame for my family’s doing Justine,” she answered solemnly as the last of the seal was ignited and the seams of the armor began to glow with the crimson light again. “Know that I do not do this lightly…”

 

Justine closed her eyes against the surge of black flames that erupted inside the cell holding the black armor. She could hear it fusing to the Princess’s body over the sounds of the doors being battered above. She had failed her duty to protect the princess. Lowering her head so the crown of it rested on the bars she could feel the tears burning her eyes as she felt herself losing the girl she could almost consider a best friend.

 

She did not raise it until a gauntleted hand rested on the back of her head, and she found herself lifting her gaze to the great scourge of the battlefields. A creature of darkest anger and spite, borne of vengeance and cursed with brutality. The helmet seemed to focus on the emblem on her chest before giving a salute. Her Princess had given her life so that this creature could live, she could not let this fail.

 

“Fury… Princess… Exit this paltry cage and defend the people of this land, I will be by your side until the end,” the Captain stated as the darkness crept into her heart, her hand finding its way to the hilt of her blade. “Pour out the anger in your core until the currs that dare attack us are driven from these halls. Long have you been silenced, but no longer. I slip you loose o’ dog of war, let none turn us from our mission.”

 

The armor tilted its head forward in acknowledgement before gripping the bars of the cage and ripping them out of their footings until it could get itself out. The Captain drew her blade, catching only the briefest glimpse of inky blackness in her eyes before obsidian black flames erupted along the metal’s length. “This is new…”

 

Seeing the armor moving towards the stone stairs, she shook herself out of the reprieve and made a vow deep in the cockles of her heart. She would free her Princess of this curse, but for now, she had to serve another role. She would not leave the Fury now, for what was the Fury without it’s Fire?

 

Moving forward she preceded the armor up the stairs ready to cut a bloody swath from the enemy forces with grim pleasure. They had taken from her the king that she served, the men and women that she trained, and the princess that she loved.

 

Perhaps it was time to give them one final gift?

 

Claiming the doorway towards the dungeon the armor had been buried in, she grinned as she saw her soldiers turning to look at her and knew that they were ready. “Ladies and Gentlemen, these heathens dared to claim our castle for their own. I believe we should show them why that is a folly. Are you with me?”

 

The roar of approval she gathered from her troops warmed her heart against the cold fury she could feel creeping in at all times. Nodding her head, she pointed the flaming blade towards the doorway. “Let’s be about it, what say you Fury?”

 

The metal armor loomed up behind her, and put a metal hand on her shoulder before sidestepping her and charging forward, drawing out a massive spiked mace from where it was slung on its back. Two steps behind the Fury came the Flame, her uniform being licked away by the black flames of her blade into a dark mockery of what she had once worn. While not as bulky as the Fury, the flame’s metal was of the same pitch hue, and the half-cape ignited and remained flowing behind her as a constant ripple of darkness as she surged forward, slashing open one enemy’s belly with ease before he was engulfed in the same darkness burning on her blade.

 

Behind her the guards drew bows and picked off what forces they could, while a squad of spearmen served as their protectors from any that should get past the two raging women. The hall swiftly became slick with blood and gore, along with the screams of the dead and the dying as their essences were consumed by the armor.


	50. I Burn

This week I did [**_I Burn_**](https://youtu.be/P9mQTmXxU8E) by Jeff and Casey Lee Williams.

Logo-comics did [**ALL EYES ON ME**](https://youtu.be/LB-38S3g418) written by OR30, Cover by SquigglyDig & Viktor McKnight. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39707769#workskin).

* * *

 

“Magical beings, welcome to the final round of the five-hundred fifty-first    
Grand Tournament! I am your hostess with the mostest Scarlet, and with me is my best friend Hazel, say hi Hazel,” the booming voice announced over the school’s broadcast gems, drawing the attention from the battle arena in the center of the bleachers momentarily.

 

Taking a deep breath, the brunette adjusted her wraps over her knuckles and forced her attention on the ring instead. She had done so much to get here, her every waking moment locked into this one goal. She was about to prove that even with her disability she was still just as powerful.

 

Seeing her cue to walk into the ring, she heard the thundering boos drowning out what little cheers she might have gotten. Not that she cared, she’d been getting boos and jeers sent her way since she was born, but she was about to show she was here to reign supreme as the most powerful.

 

The referee stepped out into the center of the ring that the fight was going to happen in, a significantly better kept version than what she was used to. Then again, normally no one would care if she died in those fights. This time, they knew she was there, and she had gotten this far on her own.

 

No, there was one other she had to thank for that, and a quick glance to the side she saw her. A subtle nod of the half-dragon’s finned head was all the acknowledgement she needed to know she was ready. She could do this.

 

Another deep breath, and she got into her starting position, raising her hand in salute momentarily before putting it in front of her body defensively. Across the way she found herself meeting glares with the pompous prince of magicians himself. He had been a constant tormentor of hers, and she was about to show that it didn’t matter if he was spoonfed empowering potions from birth, or had the best tutors money could buy, there was one thing she had that he didn’t.

 

She had an inner fire to prove herself equal to even the greatest of magic users.

 

Once the signal to start sounded, she pushed off, charging forward as she focused in on the lout. She had to be quick, and as she sidestepped his opening lightning bolt, she knew that she had to be quicker than ever before. He was going to be flinging powerful magic at close range, and probably too fast for her usual interrupts to work.

 

Good thing that wasn’t her only plan.

 

A fireball ripped past her, just as she ducked out of the way, the green flame gleaming off the scars visible through the shorn sides of her hair. Short hair was better in the ring, as she learned early on to earn those scars in the first place. And then the explosion just behind her gave her the push she needed to dive forward into a roll and spring up just in front of the arrogant jerk. The look of shock on his haughty face nearly made everything she’d ever gone through worth it, but this was just the beginning. A swift spin to his side, and her leg slammed into his stomach, only for it to pass through him like he was air.

 

Continuing her spin, she dove out of the way of whatever the hell that blue spell he slung at her was, and she realized what he was doing. He had decoy spells and was casting through them. Gritting her teeth, she focused her rage and slammed her fists together. She couldn’t let her fire go out from such cheap tricks, unfortunately she couldn’t use her usual trick to reveal him.

 

Springing away, she watched as a wave of rocks and dirt washed past and grinned. Or maybe he would give her the tools of his undoing. Landing behind the wave, she spun another roundhouse kick through it, and sent out a spray of large rocks, but more importantly fine gravel and dust coated the arena.

 

Seeing his footprints in the debris, she pushed off and was in front of him while he was still busy clearing the dirt from his face. One second he was blinded by dirt that had slipped past his shield, the next he was blinded from his own hand being hammered into his eyes by her fist. She hoped that the cracking feeling she got was not just her own hand that had broken.

 

Judging by the way he cradled his left hand to his chest while one eye was starting to swell shut with a tiny trickle of blood indicated that she might have been right on that one. The twin trail from his nose was nice to see as well.

 

But she couldn’t let him regain himself, she had to keep him on the defensive. Charging back in, she jabbed her fists forward in a series of rapid punches, keeping him backing away. He tried to bring up his right hand to cast something and she snagged it from the air and rolled under it. One swift pull down and he was on his back, probably seeing stars, her fist racing in to finish him off.

 

“YIELD!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, and she swerved to slam her fist into the ring. The deafening silence that followed the explosion of dust and debris was haunting as she realized dimly that everyone thought she’d killed him just now.

 

Standing up, she took another deep breath before extending a hand to help him to his feet. Almost like tradition he slapped it away, before scrabbling to his feet and staggering away. Shaking her head, she gave him a formal bow in respect, before turning to walk towards the judge.

 

The crowd’s jeers and cries of foul were nothing new to her, and she wondered if she’d ever be accepted as a non-magical in a world where everyone else was magical. But what was becoming familiar in recent months was her best friend standing at the side of the ring with a pleased smile on her face and a bunch of magical healing at the ready. The proud smile on the her face was enough to take many of her pains away.

 

The shift to horror was the only warning she had as she felt a growing chill behind her. Turning she saw a dagger of ice streaking through the air towards her, and she only had a moment to react. Instincts borne from her years in the underground battle arenas had her spinning into the blade, catching it, and reversing its course in a single fluid motion that had her fingers dripping blood, but it was better than her chest.

 

The prince didn’t even have time to cast a shield charm, nor even lower his arm from casting the spell before the knife plunged itself directly into his armpit. Standing in a defensive position, she watched as he dropped to the ground clutching the wound under his arm.

 

“MEDICS!” various voices around her cried out as she watched the arena devolve into chaos.

 

The referee walked over and took her bloody hand in his own, eyes sparkling. “Mage-Killer combat style… don’t see too much of that these days… wherever did you learn that?”

 

She focused on his face, and realized that it was the headmaster of the local mage academy. Feeling her throat dry up suddenly she glanced back to her best friend and tried to ask for help with just a panicked expression, but she was too far away, and blocked by the restraints of the ring.

 

Swallowing, she turned back, and looked into the ancient eyes of the headmaster with something akin to terror in her heart. “I… found… b-books?” she rasped out, unused to speaking in the common tongue.


	51. Come Little Children

This week's song is [Come Little Children](https://youtu.be/1t8-_pI1-9Q) from the movie Hocus Pocus (Man I gotta watch that one again) as performed by Sarah Sanderson (Sarah Jessica Parker).

Logo did [I Expect You to Die](https://youtu.be/ht1ZChKF4Ek) from the game of the same name. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39707925#workskin).

* * *

A haunting melody drifted through the still woods, lilting and dancing melodies brought forth from a simple wooden pipe, played by a woman clad if a shimmering gown and endless colors. Behind her was dozens of children, swaying and dancing to the music as she lead the further and further into the woods. The adults could not touch them now, her magic would see to that.

 

The shadows of the forest at night parted, letting the moon and stars flood the procession with their light, even as none outside of the grisly parade could see it. She had come to the town with honest intentions of earning a little coin, just enough to feed herself until she could find a larger city to play for her meal. But then she had seen the haunted look on the faces of the children, the curt words, the forced labor at jobs that should have gone to adults. All while the majority of the adults lazed about getting fat.

 

Her task had been to rid the city of its rats, and she had done so. She had even cut her price, because she had thought a city that needed children to work was not that well off. And then they had spurned her, casting her out as a witch while laughing at her. The entire town, save one.

 

There was one woman who had stayed back and she had seen her giving the children water and food. She knew she was not from this accursed town, and if she could have shared this parade with any, that woman would have been a worthy partner in the care of her new family.

 

But only the open eyed wonder of a child’s mind, even buried under the crushing burden of being used like slaves in factories and farms, was able to hear the lilting song’s promises of a land of enchantment. Her eyes watched as the shadows parted against a cliff-face, and she played the notes a while longer, assembling her children peacefully as she continued thinking about that horrible town. This would slow down their cruelty for at least a few years, and hopefully set some of them on a proper path, not that she was holding out much hope for them.

 

Shifting the pipe a little higher, the notes rang out sharper, splitting through the rock as though it was butter. The children gasped in delight as a canyon appeared before them, revealing a lush, green, and bountiful field of food being plucked by magic and brought to a large farmhouse beside a lazily flowing river. She smiled softly at seeing her home, letting the children, the tender dears cautiously dare forward in groups.

 

They had seen much treachery and deception to be that timid under her spell, and she knew that it would take her years to undo the damage to those she could, and it broke her heart to know that she couldn’t do it for all.

 

The last child in the line, one of the oldest carrying a baby that was just barely old enough to part its mother smiled up at her in honest gratitude, before holding out a rope. The piper didn’t falter as she took the rope, releasing the child of her burden before she shifted the baby up, and pointed out a butterfly fluttering past to the baby’s squealing delight.

 

As the children settled into the farm, she turned back to the rope that had started going slack. At the other end, there was something she hadn’t expected. A donkey ladened down with blankets and pillows, followed by one bearing clothing, and yet a third that carried with it cheeses, meats, and a lingering odor of smoke.

 

The beasts of burden trundled past, paying the still playing piper no mind as she held the opening for the beasts to enter the lands beyond. They seemed pleased when the magic took the goods off their backs and offered them the sweetest grasses to eat. She would have to rethink things with them around. Perhaps she could make a field for them to stay in or something.

 

No matter, turning to enter the passage, she frowned as she noticed another rope leading away from the third donkey. Picking it up with the hand holding the first rope, she gave it a tentative tug, which brought out a feminine gasp.

 

Bracing herself, she lowered the pipe from her lips and dispelled the shadows, ready to fight to protect the children she had adopted, or run and seal the rock face behind her. What she hadn’t expected to see was the woman from earlier, staring up at her from the ground, while a roaring fire burned on the horizon.

 

“The children will be safe with you, I needed to make sure…” the woman stated as she pushed herself up with a length of wood. It was singed at the ends, and as she observed the woman more, she could see burns still fresh on her hands and arms. “Please take care of them for me.”

 

The piper tilted her head at the strange woman, speaking a foot to her left, when she noted the strange milkiness to her eyes. The woman’s smile grew strained as she turned her head around nervously. “H-Hello? M-Miss Piper?”

 

The soft gasp from the piper brought her attention properly towards the woman in question, allowing her a chance to see the cruel scar across the bridge of her nose, even with both eyes. “Please speak up, I was blinded by an accident at a factory when I was younger, and was tasked as their caretaker.”

 

The piper pulled back, clutching her pipe nervously as she glanced around to try and find some way of communicating with the blinded woman. How had she slipped past her spell? How could she…

 

How could she still have the eyes of a child? Those that never saw the darkness of the world, but remembered the light and hope. Looking up with sudden understanding she swallowed and moved forward. Brushing her fingers against the woman’s hand, she gauged her reaction for a moment. Seeing a slight pained expression, swallowed again and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, turning and guiding her to the opening.

 

The fire in the city behind them, she allowed the woman to follow her arm at her own pace, slowly guiding her to the scar on her neck. A gift from a man she had refused thrice to marry, and in doing so supposedly humiliated him.

 

But that didn’t stop her from weaving her own magic.

 

“I… I’m sorry,” the blind woman stated as the rocks began to close behind them, sealing them and twenty-odd children into their home.


	52. Ghost Riders in the Sky

This week I wrote for [Ghost Riders](https://youtu.be/j2klh2cTa_Q) in the Sky by Burl Ives.

Logo did [Spooky Scary Skeletons METAL COVER VERSION](https://youtu.be/KJSM1tv_N8A) by Jonathan Young & ToxicxEternity. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39708114#workskin).

* * *

 

Living out on the edge of civilization, butted up against the Sea of Grass had many benefits for one that had trouble with cities. Especially when late at night, the lonesome figure wanted to walk out under the skies. Sadly this time, it seemed that the gods had cursed the stars to be hidden by clouds heavy and dark in the dim light. That was fine, they didn’t need the stars to enjoy the weather.

 

Standing nearly seven feet tall, he stood out among the people in the closest village like a sore thumb, something that his father told him he got from his mother. Apparently she was a real, live angel, and had been called back to the heavens when he was young. It would explain the feathery wings sprouting from his back as well, but he couldn’t stand the people gawking at him, when they weren’t making rude comments about him.

 

Plucking out his pipe, he packed it with some Old Toby he got off a passing halfling merchant for nearly a song. Lighting up, he took a few puffs before releasing a ring of smoke into the air. And that’s when he saw them, streaks of black wreathed in flames against the clouds, horns a black as the souls of the damned, eyes a gleaming crimson, and the rumbling roar of their passing echoing above the growing storm. It was a flight of dragons, a grand… no something wasn’t right about them.

 

That’s when he saw the smaller figures riding herd on them, their horses sparking lightning with each trampling step, fire leaping from their noses. But it was the riders themselves that caught his attention enough that the pipe would hang loose from his lips. They were giants given human form, with gleaming white wings flowing behind them. Angels! They were angels… then that meant…

 

“Hello Jesse,” a tired voice behind him made him leap out of his skin, before whirling on the voice and seeing a powerful female form that dwarfed him standing next to one of the midnight black horses he had just seen riding in the heavens above. “It has been so long since I saw you, you’ve grown so big…”

 

“M-mom?” he asked in a voice both creaking with disuse and hushed with disbelief. Seeing her nod, he took a deep breath and tamped down on his tobacco enough to snuff it.

 

The woman didn’t seem to care either way as she moved away from the horse and scooped him into a powerful hug that left his muscular form short of breath. “Oh by the heavens Jesse! I’ve missed you so much!”

 

The hurt he felt throughout a childhood missing his mother echoed in the back of his mind as he returned the hug, before it was drowned out by the warmth and love he still held for her. “Pa always said you’d come back, but…”

 

“He died, I know,” she supplied looking up at the dragons being driven on. “I do not have long before I have to rejoin them, but I was granted leave to visit you.”

 

“Take me with you,” he stated earnestly, his eyes focused on her. “Please. I do not fit in this world.”

 

“Nor would you fit up there, not yet…” she answered before folding her wings around him warmly. “I will not take you on this ride Jesse, one such as yourself would never be able to leave it.”

 

He’d heard enough tales to know where this was leading, and so he looked away and closed his eyes. “What must I do?”

 

“To ride the heavens, and be able to leave at your willing is a rare talent,” she explained while patting her horse fondly as she looked up to the dragons once more. “Find the mountain sheathed in lightning, there at the peak, you will find a steed to tame. If you can ride the lightning, and not be consumed by its flame, you may ride with us. But there will be many trials before that.”

 

“And those dragons? What are they?”

 

“Souls… corrupted and darkened by their lives, we are herding them to their afterlife. A shame, as dragons are such creatures of beauty, but when twisted…”

 

Jesse took a deep breath and let it out as he watched them go into the distance. “You have a hard ride ahead of you Mom.”

 

“As do you Jesse,” she agreed as she mounted up and turned to rejoin her duties. “I love you Jesse, no matter how much it seem I don’t.”

 

“Never doubted it,” he answered before patting the horse on the shoulder carefully to get its attention. “Take care of her for me, please.”

 

The horse considered him with an eye full of stars before bowing its head down slightly before turning away and at her command took off into the night’s sky. He watched her riding hard, chasing down the herd and the other riders before he turned to go gather his things. He had a journey ahead of him, and he had to leave as soon as possible to catch up with them on his own.

 

Touching a pocket watch his father had given him, he smiled as he realized that he was going to live up to his final wishes. He was going to show the world what he could do.


	53. Goodnight Demon Slayer

One year in, and we're still having fun. How about you? Let's hear some noise!

This week I did Voltaire's [Goodnight Demon Slayer](https://youtu.be/r2Uab6qzM9s).

Meanwhile Logo did [Zombie](https://youtu.be/9XaS93WMRQQ) by Bad Wolves. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39708189#workskin).

* * *

 

The Writer closed their tired eyes as they pushed away from the keyboard, sighing in annoyance as the sound outside grew louder. They couldn’t focus on their work like this, not with what was happening outside their windows. With a regretful sigh, they stood up and walked away from their computer to stare out into the inky darkness where the chaotic noises swelled the longer the night went on.

They were a god in a sense over many worlds, and yet in this one, they were naught but a simple mortal with a creative mind, and the dedication to share it with the world. They had created monsters too dark and terrible and the heroes resolved and resolute to bring them to heel. They had danced with the devil, and played the song like a master.

Worlds had been created, formed, and shaped from their words alone.

But those worlds always had some anchor to the world of the Writer. For it was a way to bring the other into their world. The other was an unknown being, one that the Writer had met on occasion, and even talked to more than once. Yet, the Writer knew that they were not always the same as what they had known. No… the Reader was ever changing, and fickle. The Reader would change face, tone, and even entire bodies, but they were always there.

There was always a Reader for the Writer, and together they shared a single world, and yet there were vast universes shared between them that sprang forth fully formed from the Writer’s mind into the words that the Reader would come across. Sometimes the Reader would be inspired, and invite the Writer into its current host, and the Reader would go off to find the new work to explore.

But the Writer knew that the dance was not one that they could entertain forever.

Closing their eyes once more, the Writer rested their head heavy with exhaustion against the cool, moisture soaked windows and let the dripping sound calm and soothe the mind. The words were not coming tonight, but it seemed that something else was to arrive in their stead.

The Writer had made many worlds and many creatures in each of them. But each was based in some form upon the world they shared with the Reader, and sometimes those creatures came back to wreck wrath and ruin.

A haughty sorceress whom had made a pact with the devil would be the librarian that snapped at you for returning to the library once more to delve into the depths of their mythology section for some half-remembered story you remember when the Reader had visited the body in the past. The shadow that would slip into the room unnoticed to whisper poisonous words into the ear of the king would traipse its way through the veil to corrupt the politicians of this world with promises of riches and power. But on moonless nights like this, where the clouds hang dark and ominous and the wind rattles the bones of the trees themselves, there was something more than just the monsters slipping through the veil to hide in this world.

The gleam of eyes in the darkness, blood red and focused caused the Writer to step back, and sigh. They never carried a sword, since time immemorial they refused to consider the notion of learning its use for more than writing accurately combat. No, they had something that they preferred to use.

Picking up a pen off the desk, they set it to paper and a swirl of light sprang forth, giving shape to the dark entities beyond. Massive horse sized wolves, slobbering and snarling ogres barely restraining them, and at their back a fell lich was raising its accursed staff to block the light from its sight. They might have thought all of them great and terrible creatures, but it was time to realize why one never messed with the Writer.

The pen began moving, drawing forth a champion in the Writer’s hour of need. Tall and powerful, clad in armor that gleamed even in the faint light, and long flowing tresses of hair peeking out from under their helm. They might revise the style later, but for now it was best to just get it down on the page. The Demon Slayer didn’t spare the Writer a moment’s glance as the windows clattered open and the first of the dark, fell creatures were upon them.

Instead the Demon Slayer pulled a massive battle ax off of the back of their armor and slashed through the snapping maw of a wolf with ease, spraying the walls with ichor and slobber as it pressed on towards the darkness. The armor seemed to absorb and focus the light it could, growing steadily brighter with each step, turning into a heroic paladin with gleaming powers of their chosen patron god shining forth against the darkness.

The ax continued slashing a path through the creatures, hacking and hewing away while the arm that swung it remained strong and true despite the numerous blows that rained down upon it and the body that wielded it. The fight was swift and brutal, blood and ichor pooling and mingling with the pouring rain as lightning flashed around them giving brief flashes of the chaos that was the battle until finally it was the Writer and their chosen champion, against the lich that had crossed over into this world in a bid to free themselves of the Writer’s machinations.

Somewhere along the way, the helmet had been struck off of the champion, to reveal the flowing platinum blonde hair rested upon the crown of the head of a battle hardened and scarred visage of a blue eyed woman. She lifted the ax and leveled it pointedly at the lich, speaking in a deep and heavy voice. “Be gone from this realm and darken the world never again.”

“Foolish child is that any way to speak to me?” the lich asked with a raspy whisper, before letting out a cackle. “Just ask the foolish Writer behind you why she made you hate me so. Tell her Writer, who I am based upon.”

“They are the Writer and owe you nothing,” the champion stated coldly as they readied the ax for the next round of combat. But even as she steeled her legs to spring forward, the lich faded into darkness, and was washed away by the brilliant light of the Sun rising in the distant horizon.

The champion turned back to her creature, to find them shaking with the pen to the page but unable to write. Tears were stinging their eyes as they struggled to regain themselves. The champion closed their eyes seeking some inspiration as to how to help the Writer they knew to have created her, just like the lich was borne of their mind as well.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over and gently engulfed the Writer in a hug and whispered into their ear something her patron had always used as a mantra for their faithful, which seemed to help still the shaking and tears, even as the Champion faded from view.


	54. The Devil and Mr Jones

Hey everyone, special request this week, with a one year anniversary happening last week, we're doing something special. We're hoping to get some questions from our fans. So if you could either leave a comment on this chapter, or send us an ask on tumblr by Friday, October 26th, we will answer them next week Sunday.

This week I wrote to Aurelio Voltaire's [The Devil and Mr Jones](https://youtu.be/XMHPWH4dUJ4)

Logo did [Hard Rock Hallelujah](https://youtu.be/uGe8qID9gSs) by Lordi. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39708315#workskin).

* * *

 

“Show us your face, my dear,” a soft, lilting voice whispered into his ear, causing the man to snap open his eyes as he woke from the short rest he had taken. It would seem he was still stuck in the endless maze, a spool of thread leading back the way he’d come, and a split in the path ahead of him. He had lost track of how long he’d been stuck in this hellish maze, but he had to keep going on.

 

Sweat stung his brow as he pushed himself up off of the ground, while a dark voice chuckled in his other ear. “Yes Mr. Jones, show us your face, let us see the truth behind your pretty smile.”

 

Shaking his head, he moved on. The voices had started mere days into his journey, always one encouraging him, the other twisting the words so they were horrible, mocking echoes of the original sentiment. So he chose to ignore both and press on.

 

Taking a look at the two paths, he shrugged and took the left one, since he always took left at splits like this. It didn’t matter to him anymore, even if it was the side that the first voice would whisper in. He checked the thread at his hip, and saw that despite it spooling out into infinity behind him, it hadn’t shrunken in the least. Honestly, it had been his most constant companion, save for the minor scare when he had to swim through the twisting hell that was the submerged section of the labyrinth.

 

Taking a deep breath, he shoved that memory away, not thinking how he’d almost drowned when the string had tangled his foot as he pressed on. There had been many trials throughout this hellish maze, but that had perhaps been the scariest he refused to think about. It was either that, or the platform that rose him far into the air, giving him a glimpse of the seemingly endless maze he was in the center of, before plummeting him towards the ground with reckless abandon.

 

Turning a corner, he came upon a mirror, and stared into his reflection for a moment before it reached up and plucked off his ear, letting it drop to the ground beyond the frame. Frowning, he debated turning away, before a dark thought trickled into his mind. Winding back a gloved hand, he punched it forward into the mirror, only for it to pass through like air, and collide with his ‘reflection’ that disappeared into so much smoke.

 

Stepping through the false mirror he snorted before adjusting the smiling mask he’d taken to wearing after the encounter with whatever it was that made him try to eat the flesh of his arm. It gave him at least some chance to snap out of it before sinking his teeth into flesh again. Mercifully he’d found a pouch on his hip that supplied him with any food he could think of.

 

“Show us your face my dear, turn it to the heavens please,” the voice in his left ear whispered, reminding him that he was never alone. And he desperately wanted to listen to it, his heart reaching out to his arm to grab the mask and pull it aside.

 

But then the other voice rumbled in. “Yes… show them the creature they have unleashed on this endless maze. Let them know the monster that would eat their own flesh with nought but a little hunger.”

 

Closing his eyes, Mr. Jones growled as he pressed on, his blue eyes opening to reveal sadness and pain, though he doubted any could see it. Turning back to the opening of the ‘mirror’ he saw the thread resting on the frame, and sighed as he looked at the perfectly mirrored section of hall. This was different at least. And so he pressed on, heading along the same direction he had been going before the mirror.

 

He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten to this maze, one night he’d gone to bed after a show closing, the next morning he woke in the middle of this maze with the thread at his hip. Since then, he’d been wandering, trying to find what he hoped was an escape. He hadn’t even seen an edge from the height the platform had taken him to.

 

That had been gods knows how long ago.

 

Coming to another split, he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, contemplating which way to go from here. “Look up, show us your face my dear,” the left voice whispered, and before the right one could chime in, he decided to just do it to shut it up.

 

Ripping away the mask, he revealed his pale white skin that had been protected from the sun and dust, looking up to the heavens above. And suddenly he was no longer in the maze.

 

There before him, was a dazzling being of bright light, beaming down at him with a nearly blinding smile. “Hello My Dear,” it whispered from his left, as the being on his right, a scowling man in red and black wreathed in flames let out a dark chuckle.

 

“Welcome indeed Mr. Jones,” the man stated coldly as he stroked the flames of his beard. “It seems that your path out has been made known.”

 

“Wh-where am I?” he croaked out, his voice dry and raspy from disuse. A subtle tremor in his chest made him worry for his immortal soul. But here he was. Where ever it was, he was no longer in the maze.

 

The figures looked towards one another before the man in red waved towards him for the being of light to sigh. “The closest you humans could call it, is Purgatory…”

 

“I’m… dead?”

 

“Indeed, but… because of your soul, we could not decide which way to send you, and powers in charge tasked you with this maze,” the voice explained as a stone chair lifted up out of the ground next to him. “You have performed the task, and the judgement has been rendered Mr. Jones.”

 

“Which way am I going?”

 

“Back,” the pair answered in unison, causing him to scrunch up his face in confusion.

 

“You have been determined to become an escort for the souls of the departed, joining the ranks of the reapers… for you do not fit in the realm of light, nor are you to be plunged into darkness,” the man on the right explained while the being of light nodded.

 

“Yes my dear, but as one who reaps the fields, you are to also sow.”

 

“Wait… I’m doing double duty as a reaper, and Cupid?”

 

The pair shared a look before the light responded again, “Those are distinctions you humans made, not us.”


	55. Welcome to the Jungle

Back from the break with news songs and new stories, hope you enjoy! The questions we got were answered [Here](https://logo-comics.tumblr.com/post/179534883409/the-songs-and-stories) and [Here](http://silentmagi.tumblr.com/post/179534967205/the-songs-and-stories).

This week I did [Welcome to the Jungle](https://youtu.be/_ABFKsxVh94) by Guns N' Roses.

Logo did [Hey Brother](https://youtu.be/UDz45y_C630) by Avicii. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39708471#workskin).

* * *

 

Slipping her headphones over her ears, the woman snapped the bubble she’d been blowing, amber eyes sharp and focused as she observed the jungle before her. In place of the trees and vines were towering glass and steel buildings, the animals and general life of the dangerous wilds given human form with mechanical vehicles. Bobbing her head along, her lips peeled back giving an almost inhuman grin as she pushed off the rooftop, sprinting towards the edge.

 

This was her jungle, and she took it anyway that she could. Two steps to the edge, her eyes fixed on the destination, and then she was soaring through the air, her black shadow passing over the people below. Tucking into a roll, she was back up on her feet in an instant, moving along as fast as she could to get through her jungle.

 

Running full-tilt, she tilted sideways to catch a billboard spanning the two building she was running across. Her sneakers leaving track-marks over the model of the week that was selling whatever poison they desired. Pulling out a canister from her hip pouch, she pulled the pin and tossed it behind her, springing free of the advertisement just as vibrant pink erupted in a cloud behind her, marring the picture in her wake.

 

Landing in another roll, this time to her side, she smiled as she saw her work, pink streaks rolling down across her face as gravity took hold of the paint before it could dry. Blowing the picture a kiss, she took off again, and smiled as she found the cabling she’d seen the other day. Leaping into the air, she landed on the anchor and kicked off to grind across the gap, feeling the air whipping past her as she let out a whoop of excitement. This was her element, and if she didn’t miss her guess… the siren cutting through the air was just the animals that expected to come after her.

 

After all, what jungle didn’t have its predators?

 

Sliding onto the roof of the target building, she saw the police drones coming after her. Pulling up her balaclava, she winked and blew a teasing kiss at them before turning and running away again. Her shoes bit into the tar of the rooftop as she raced ahead of the drones, leading them on yet another chase as she defaced the jungle to remind them of she was still there. It might have brought others to their knees, watched and laughed as they were bled dry, but she was not going to let it drag her down.

 

Another edge was passed, and she sprang out into the air, pulling two more canisters out of her pouch, she pulled the pins and this time they trailed out the airborne paint instead of just exploding. The contrails spread out over the carefully manicured lawn of the corrupt politician, whose money had been earned by drug trafficking, and far worse. But the police couldn’t touch him, since most of them were bought off by him. Another bonus was that more than a couple of the drones, were covered in the paint and missed the oncoming wall she slid down. While several of them arced to pursue her still, the blinded ones slammed into it, and rained their debris into his pool, filled despite the water rationing going on in the slums.

 

Grinning grimly, she deployed her claw gloves, sinking the metal into the false stone edifice to slow herself down. Seconds after the sudden deceleration, the remaining drones zipped past her, and she kicked off. Landing on one, she knelt and planted a little gift on its rear hull before leaping free and rolling out onto the politician’s lawn. Running forward, she saw the guards rushing towards her and couldn’t help but feel her heart race at the thrill of the hunt. Seeing them pulling out guns, she shook her head and pulled another surprise from her hip pouch, closing her eyes before throwing it at her feet. The explosion of light worked as she heard them cry out in pain before she was running again, surging forward with her claws out and ready.

 

She didn’t kill them, after all, they were just doing their job, and she couldn’t fault them for that. It was swift work getting to the house while they were blinded, and then she was inside, moving on to her ultimate target of the day. Her claws raked parallel lines across the gold trimmed wallpaper, and shredded through the stuffy looking portraits. Seeing her target, she dropped to the ground and slide into the room with her on an ornate rug. There before her was her target.

 

Stepping off of the rug now covered in remains of paint and dirt, she tipped her head as she pulled one last thing from her pouch. Bowing formally, she presented the data card to the heiress as instructed and gave her a playful wink before taking off sprinting again to the sound of the guards making their way inside the mansion.

 

Seeing a giant glass window, she couldn’t help but laugh at the clicheness of it all, and decided it was time for her fun and games to end. Punching through with her claws first, she sprang out into the back gardens in a shower of glass all around her. Of course, the back window overlooked an empty view afforded to the politician by tearing down several low rent apartments, one of which had been her childhood home.

 

Hours later, after the heiress had been cleared by medical staff from the harrowing assault at the animal that had left her sprawled out on the ground, the young woman plugged the drive into her computer and smiled as a file began to open.

 

“Welcome to the Jungle Princess - The Panther,” it read, before displaying things she could do to help the cause. Her lips parted, showing off pearly white fangs that gleamed in the light of her computer screen. It was time for her to pick her name, something she’d thought of since she first hunted down The Panther in the slums.

 

Clicking a link, she was given a prompt to select her name, and as she typed, her emerald eyes grew focused and ready.

 

It was time for the jungle’s goddess Feronia to rise up, and maybe she will have a Panther of her own by the end of it.


	56. Bergentrückung - King in the Mountain

This week's song is a fanmade song for Undertale that was written by PALogy that I think the title is [Bergentrückung - King in the Mountain](https://youtu.be/ml0NOkuQqfk).

Logo did [I Am Machine](https://youtu.be/flq30E6LI9E) by Three Days Grace. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39708642#workskin).

* * *

 

“You have done well to get this far child,” the aged man stated as the warrior rounded the final corner. On his head was a heavy looking crown, but not nearly as heavy as the armor that he was clad in. “You have come so far, and yet this is where you meet your end.”  
  
As he readied his blade for combat, the warrior paused and tried to shake her head in refusal. “Do not cry child, this is our destiny, and only one of us may leave.”  
  
“Do not do this my King! I have struggled so hard to meet with you, and I-” the warrior protested as she brought her spear up in a defensive posture, tears stinging her eyes. But his laughter, bitter and dry as leaves in the winter winds outside the mountain cut her off.  
  
He stood tall, his sword gleaming in the torchlight illuminating the cavern. “Did you think it so easy to win child? I knew when I set you on this quest, this is the end. Do not cry when it is finally time to finish it.”  
  
He knew? HE KNEW!  
  
Grimacing, she took a deep breath and planted her feet. “King of the Mountain… As the chosen hero, I must defeat you. I ask that you change your path, please.”  
  
“My queen asked me much the same, and then betrayed me when she found my true task. If she could not sway me, what hope have you child?”  
  
The futility of her words struck her, even as the promise she had given to her mother echoed in her heart. She had to do what she could to save the King from his darkness, but she couldn’t figure it out, much like every single time she’d tried to figure it out previously.  
  
Using the shaft of the spear, she turned his swinging blade, her eyes searching his face for some sign of the great man that he had once been. Instead, all she saw was a cold hardness that chilled her to the core. Unfortunately that pause allowed him to swing once again and her parry wasn’t nearly as clean, a gash of red splattered the wall as pain blossomed from her left arm. Grimacing, she pressed the attack, driving her spear forward suddenly, narrowly missing his chest as he stepped aside. “GOOD! Good child, you are finally facing your destiny as I instructed you to.”  
  
“Stop,” she commanded, her voice growing hard as she continued fighting for what she knew was right. She had to do this for everyone that she had fought so hard for. Knocking the sword aside again, she thrust her spear into his thigh, drawing a hiss of pain from him, cut short as she swung around it and planted her boot into his mouth.  
  
As he staggered back, she landed on her feet and watched him merely turn to spit out the blood from the blow. “You think to command a King? Foolish child.”  
  
Grimly, she watched him raise his sword and charge forward again. His wounded leg slowed him slightly, but he still had size and strength on his side, and then she saw a way to do what she had to. The spear was set to thrust into his chest as he charged, left completely open in his attack. Then she dropped the tip towards his toes and thrust, twisting with it as it caught in his legs and sent him sprawling. Scooping up her dagger as his sword scattered away, she was on him in an instant, blade raised to strike his sprawled out form.  
  
“Do it, child! Strike true and end the pain! Bring down the King in the Mountain!” he demanded as she held the blade. She caught his eyes, burning with determination and satisfaction, focused on the blade above his head. And then she brought it down, a loud scream escaping as she stabbed true.  
  
Blood splattered across the ground as the long blade struck true, slicing into the king’s flesh. And yet, he would see another day, for she had seen her opponent’s true form. The crown, heavy with sin, and corruptive in nature was split and falling free of his head, the shattered metal leaving a scar in its wake.  
  
The warrior, for their wisdom and courage, had suffered far worse than a scar to the forehead. For was with most things magical, its destruction took an equal measure from the one who would destroy it. Lightning erupted out of the crown and snaked its way through the warrior’s body, sending them sprawling with a trail of smoke drifting from their body.  
  
The king scrabbled over, his eyes wide even as blood poured from his wounds, gasping for breath as he was freed from the darkness that had clouded his thoughts. “No child! No this was not how it should have gone!” he cried out as he cradled the still, smouldering form in his arms. Tears joined his own blood as it fell from his face, smearing on the warrior’s face.  
  
The warrior’s eyes moved behind closed lids, before they slowly parted to look up at their king, crying over the fallen enemy. “I did it My King, I defeated you without killing you…”  
  
“You… you did Child, you… you did great,” he answered, trying to give them a smile to show his appreciation for the warrior that had saved him from the madness that had claimed him. “Let’s get you to a healer… they will make you right as new.”  
  
The warrior coughed weakly as she reached up to cup the man’s cheek in her burnt hand, the glove that had been there melded with her flesh now. “Nay good king, it is too late for me. Be a good, just king once more… that is all I ask.”  
  
“I… I promise Child,” he answered as he closed his eyes, tears falling from his face as the warrior’s breath slowed noticeably, being harder for her to force her lungs to continue working. “You will be a hero, and honored in everything I do.”  
  
“That’s fine…” she answered as her hand went slack, falling away from his cheek. “Goodnight my ki-”  
  
“Say it correctly one final time Child,” he pleaded softly as he held her through the coughing attack. “Let me know I can still be the man to deserve that title you alone can call me.”  
  
“O-okay…” she whispered shakily, her breath short and ragged. “Goodnight Father.”  
  
And with that, her eyes grew blank, and the King realized that she may have spared him, but there was no mercy for him. Not when he had a hand in the death of his only child, and the howl of pain that ripped from his throat echoed throughout the caverns leading to the prison he had built as a fortress to conquer the world.  
  
It would be a fine burial mound for his daughter


	57. Thanks for the Memory

This week we decided to do songs themed around giving thanks, and I chose Frank Sinatra's (Yeah, Ol' Blue Eyes himself) [Thanks for the Memory](https://youtu.be/VhD9e2SzytY). We're back to Marina and Jasmine for another update, here's the previous chapters. ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), [3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29293914), [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094), [5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081), [6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31350669), [7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31922250), [8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33267582), [9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33461475) and [10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34871735))

Logo did [Thanks For All The Fish](https://youtu.be/yowQ43L3FCU) from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39708846#workskin).

* * *

Brown eyes scanned the grey horizon outside her windows without even taking in the vista before her. Her mind was instead drifting back through her memories, summers at the beach with her father building sandcastles. She could remember the crunch of the sand under her feet, the smell and chill of the salty spray, and her father’s strong arms holding her close as they laughed together.

 

He was a great man. He always made time for her, and even ensured that she had a proper grounding in her faith. His hands were rough and calloused, years of factory work having left their mark before his retirement. She couldn’t help but smile as she turned away from the window and looked at the letter she had just gotten from him.

 

Where had those summer memories gone?

 

She would have to let the housing director know that she was staying on campus for this… and many foreseeable holidays. Her breath hitched as the pain struck fresh once more, the chill dread burning her to her core. Clenching her crucifix, she sent up a silent prayer to the Father above to help guide her on what she was to do now. She had a full scholarship, thankfully, so really she just needed to pick up more hours somewhere to cover other expenses.

 

Perhaps, she shouldn’t tell Jasmine and the others about this. She could just say that her parents had other plans for the holidays, and didn’t want to put her out the cost of the flight back. That might have worked, if it wasn’t for the fact that Jasmine knew her family as well, and would see through that.

 

She didn’t want to tell the truth, to confess that she had destroyed her family with her selfishness, but she couldn’t go back on her words now.

 

In her last letter, she had confessed to her parents that she was now dating Jasmine. It had been a happy, wonderful letter to them, telling them endlessly about how wonderful Jasmine was treating her, and how her friends had supported her finally becoming comfortable with herself.

 

As the tears began rolling down her cheeks, she realized that she was going to miss that joy. That simple happiness she had in her ignorance.

 

Pulling her glasses off, she set them on the letter back from her father, grabbed her pillow off her bed and tried to quiet the sobs racking her body. She had brought this on herself with her selfish, sinful ways, and now she had to pay the price.

 

After a few minutes, her tears stilled, and her body slowly succumbed to sleep as she wore herself down. She might have been excused for not hearing the knocking at her door, or the sound of the handle turning. “Hey Mar, you aren’t answ-” Jasmine started, before freezing at the sight before her. There was something terribly wrong with this, and she couldn’t leave it.

 

Marina never slept in her clothes, even if she was studying late into the night, she always changed into her pajamas first. Taking a deep breath, she scanned the room, taking in everything carefully. Tearing her eyes away from the tear streaked and agonized face of her girlfriend was perhaps not the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, but it was certainly not even remotely close to being the easiest. Her desk was a mess compared to normal, with her family portrait tipped over onto its front and completely on the other side of the desk than normal, right next to a familiar pair of glasses and an unfolded underneath.

 

Steeling her nerves, she walked over as silently as possibly, to peek at the letter, and her heart sank at the words she saw there. Marina had been cast out by her family, with only the promise that they would arrange to have her items sent to her. Closing her eyes as if to somehow force herself to not live in the reality of those words, she decided that she caused this rift, and she was going to do what she could to mend it.

 

Slipping a light blanket over Marina, she kissed her on the temple, promising silently to make it right.

 

Every step out of the room thundered in her ears, and the click of the door behind her she swore echoed throughout the universe. Rushing across the hall, she snatched her jacket from her room, and plucked her phone from its charger. Leaving her room again, she sprinted towards the exit with only the thought of running away and clearing her head to get a plan of action in her mind.

 

Her father had sent her a letter saying that she was no longer welcomed at the home she’d grown up in. Her father had said that she was not to come home, and that her parents were both disappointed in her. Her father…

 

Her father had said a lot of things.

 

But she didn’t see anything about her mother alone in that message.

 

Slowing her sprint, she found herself outside of a familiar flower garden, one that she swore was more at home in the land of her dreams than in the waking world. As a fog slowly rolled in, she walked up to the gate and touched it reverently before turning away and continued jogging along, her mind turning over the plans in her head.

 

Finally, she made it to her destination.

 

She had never been overly religious herself, and had in fact not set foot in a church since leaving home. Not until Marina had asked her to come one day and meet the Father that had helped her so much in adjusting to college life. Mayhew had even convinced her to attend a few services, each one she joined Marina, and as the hour chimed on the old metal bells she felt a peace spreading through her.

 

“God… if you are there, and care at all about one of your most faithful children…” she whispered, looking up at a stain glass portrait of the holy family holding each other. Her eyes lingered on the loving look of Mary as she watched the little baby Jesus in her arms. She was hoping that God’s love remained in the one source that had always seemed the strongest to her. “If you care about Marina at all, let Mary guide the person I am about to call. I swear to any force you care to name God, if you grant me this small blessing. If you can show her this one little glimpse of your love and support, I will not leave her. Please God, I don’t know what else to promise. But I’m begging… let this work.”

 

Sitting on the steps outside the church, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the numbers, to ones she had insisted getting from Marina as soon as they became friends. They were emergency contact numbers, and she stared at the three that came to her mind. Looking squarely at the third number in the list, she highlighted it, and closed her eyes in another silent prayer.

 

Pressing the call button, she slipped the phone against her ear and listened to the ringing on the other end. When a voice came across, she almost let out a sigh of relief before speaking. “Mrs. Smithson? You might not remember me? My name is Jasmine, and I went to school with your daughter… and… there is so much I need to talk to you about. Please, hear me out… if you still love Marina at all, please hear me out.”


	58. The Last Unicorn

This is a song that has been on my playlist for ages, and I'm glad that Logo gave me a chance to write to [The Last Unicorn](https://youtu.be/qp8qevE-09s) by America from the movie "The Last Unicorn".

Logo chose the song [Spark Inside Us](https://youtu.be/R-yW9ws8ksU) from the movie The Princess and the Goblins. [His Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39708960#workskin).

* * *

 

The flowers clinked together as the wind rustled the ice encrusted bulbs together, drawing a sharp breath from the woman that was bent over a crumbling well. Sparkling purple eyes lifted from the bucket as she held still, listening to the woods around her. She had to hurry, she did not trust the silence that was echoing after the wind’s path.

 

Getting the water up was easy, freeing it from the bucket a breeze, and she’d be able to melt the resulting ice in the basin back in her cabin. Reaching out, she patted the stone mane of the lion that served as a guardian to the well fondly. She remembered when it had roared its last defiance, back before the ice had crept in and strangled the woods. Turning north, she spied the moon rising over the hills and decided it was time to move. The moon meant light, and light meant… them.

 

Picking up her sled’s guide rope, she let out a bitter laugh before planting her feet and digging in to press on towards her cabin. She would be safe there from them. Whatever the creatures had been called in their own tongue, she didn’t dare pretend to know. All she knew was they were swift, evil, and killed or destroyed everything in their path. How her cabin had been spared, she wished sometimes she knew, but it was safe, sturdy, and just needed some boards over the gaping windows in the stone walls to be warm.

 

She also tossed out the strange metal contraptions from inside somewhere far away. She knew the creatures used them to kill others, and their own kind, and she wanted nothing to do with them. She had her own defenses to rely on.

 

Building up a good pace, she remained in the shadows of the forest, her breath a whisper against the crunch of the snow and ice. She turned to glance back at the lit clearing holding the well, and summoned up her power to cover her tracks with a gust of wind. She may very well be the last of her kind, no need to make it easy for the creatures to find her.

 

It would possibly be allowed to forgive her the lapse in precaution when she saw her cabin waiting for her just as she left it. It wasn’t until after she had gotten the block of ice into the basin, and cleared her path again that she realized there was another sound in the cabin. Stiffening, she turned, her eyes wide as she came face to face with one of the creatures.

 

The creature was nearly a full head shorter than her, with wrinkly grey skin, those hideous glossy eyes, the strange maw that never opens, and one of their killing devices leveled at her. It might have been a trick of her eyes, but she almost swore the creature was trembling.

 

Then the coppery scent of blood wafted to her nose, and she realized the reason the creature hadn’t killed her yet was possibly because it was injured and didn’t want to fight if it didn’t have to. Slowly lowering herself submissively, she spread out her hands and waited, eyes unblinking at the strange creature before her.

 

There was some sort of muffled noise, before the creature tilted its head and oddly enough… accepted her surrender.

 

The killing metal rod was lowered, and the creature raised up and lifted the glossy black eyes away from their flesh, and revealed a face underneath. Amethyst eyes met Emerald, and she felt her heart race. This creature had ensnared another and was… no, it was lowering the muzzle to reveal a flat, pale face underneath, staring at her in open wonder. Tilting her head, she slowly let her eyes explore the form of the creature before her. Its skin was baggy and grey, much as she expected, but there was a patterning to it that wasn’t quite natural, and she could make out black markings on its chest, and a patch of some sort on its right forearm.

 

The scent of blood was coming from the tied off left hip which was leaking out a carmine stain into the extra skin it was using to stop the bleeding. Such a strange creature, having its own shedded skin as a means of preventing blood loss. But it may not be its own skin, since the pale form under the glossy black fake eyes and eternally closed false mouth did not even come close to matching the rest of the grey.

 

“Peace, I mean you no harm,” the creature spoke, showing off a mix of blunted teeth and sharpened fangs at the edges. How curious, it must eat both meat and leaf if that’s the case. “See, I got cut off from my unit, and shot by a sniper ten klicks from here. I need to stop the bleeding, and then I’ll be gone.”

 

Blinking her shining purple eyes, she pointed to the wound, noticing how her fingers were so much longer, thinner, and finer than the creature’s stumpy ones. Until the creature removed the false skin again, to reveal similar fingers to her own, but still shorter and more rounded. This creature was so much like what her mother had based their disguises on, it was uncanny.

 

“Yeah, that’s the bleeder there…” the creature suggested as it shifted to look at it. “If I can get out of my pants, I think I can sew it shut and be gone in the morning.”

 

The panic surge in her chest must have shown on her face, as the creature held up its hands again, one covered, one bare to try and placate her or something. “Easy! I won’t tell anyone you’re here, but this is a war zone lady, it’s not safe here…”

 

Shaking her head again, she tapped the floor of the cabin she had reclaimed as her own. “Look, I know you think you’re safe in this old bunker, and if I hadn’t spotted the light from it near dusk, I would have missed it. But one bomb, or artillery shell, hell one grenade and you’re meat paste lady.”

 

The snort that escaped her, must had told the creature what she thought of this concept, as the creature drew back and muttered something potentially to itself. “Okay… let’s not get off on the wrong foot. I’m not anti-mutant or anything… I kinda dig the horn in the forehead mind you…”

 

She paused and touched her horn in though, delicate fingers tracing the fine jutting of bone as she realized this creature… this creature was innocent enough to see her true self, but not educated enough to know what she was. Then the creature let out a small laugh. “Where are my manners? I’m Private Lucinda Schmendrick, of Her Majesty’s Fifth Supply and Logistics Regiment at your service ma’am, and you?”

 

Finally, she could no longer avoid speaking to the creature, summoning up some of her magic, she let her healing purple energies wash over the injured creature as a smile spread over her lips. “My name is hard to share in your tongue, but I am known as the Unicorn Arabeth, possibly the last of my kind.”


	59. The Wassail Song

December is upon us, and that means it's seasonal music, I did [The Wassail Song](https://youtu.be/7XO5Zs-qlx4) performed by Jim Carroll.

Logo did Dean Martin's [Walking in a Winter Wonderland](https://youtu.be/lkFP0VwpPRY). [His story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39709035#workskin).

* * *

 

A faint, jaunty tune piped out of a tin flute, drifting down the lane of the otherwise quiet street. One may have forgiven the noise, if but to perceive the sight it preceded. A parade of some sort was striding through the winter stillness, at its head were a regal pair that could shown with a light and a warmth that none could mistake as anything but magical. Their long, pointed ears sticking out into the air.

 

The first was a proud and strong build, though it was hard to tell which gender it was, the words of the language they were conversing in gave no clue either way, though the voice almost danced along the music playing from somewhere in the procession. And at their side, was a being that words failed to describe adequately in their ethereal beauty, even if one could neither claim male nor female for them. If the strong one’s words danced around the melody, the beautiful one’s voice swirled around it in an intoxicating blur of merriment.

 

And yet, despite the noise of the procession, none dared peek out of their houses to view it. Well, some children in windows floors removed from the ground dared, but the adults knew better. Or at least that’s what they told themselves.

 

The Christmas Elves had returned.

 

Their procession was rumored to be those that had dared intrude upon their business in the past, to eternally play, laugh, and dance. To make merry endlessly, abandoning their family and duties.

 

No, the people would leave the Elves to their task, and pray that they were not the chosen victim that night.

 

Yet, if an adult were to look, instead of hushing their child and pulling them from the windows, they would know the goal of the Elves. For the road they graced with their passing lead to only one house in the whole of the city. Lord Klaus and his family resided in the manor overlooking the village at the far end of the road.

 

It was there they were heading.

 

Lord Klaus was a rather fair lord of the township, and an jolly man with many children and a wife that kept the house jolly the year round. On that evening, the children were allowed to stay awake and play with their devices. He joined in with the dolls, helping craft a story of adventure and romance that had most children enthralled as they joined in merrily. Off to one side, his youngest son was painting a wooden doll his eldest had made, with the older brother talking at his side while carving the next member to join the cast of dolls.

 

The noise of the children was loud, and filled the house with life, such that even though they had been dismissed for the evening, the staff were sitting in the kitchen with Lady Klaus enjoying mulled wine and talking as she insisted on taking care of something special.

 

Yet, even with the noise of the family bustling about in their merrymaking, the notes of a tin pipe cut through it cleanly. The head of the family let out a knowing chuckle as he looked up, seeing the glow approaching his home.

 

“Love, we have some late night visitors, put the Wassail on!” he cried out joyfully as he stood up, his middle daughter on his hip, while the youngest clung to his leg. Letting out a chuckle, he ushered the entire family to the windows to watch the approaching troupe. The eyes of all his children sparkled at the sight before them, the winter desolation withdrawing itself as spring unfolded before them, blossoms on the trees, green grass and flowers upon the lawn, and in the center of it a circus of grace and elegance.

 

The flute’s notes were mingled with eerily beautiful voices that sang a song in their own language, one that brought tears to the eyes of the staff, memories lingering upon the last visit to the manor back when Lord Klaus was but a babe in his mother’s arms.

 

After a few minutes, the leads of the procession broke off and approached the door, which opened before them by the hand of Lord Klaus himself, bowing to them in greetings. The daughter in his arms giggled at the motion, while his sons copied him a few paces away. This all seemed to draw an amused gasp out of their guests. “Welcome to our house, blessing be upon the heads of the Courts, and the families therein.”

 

“Oh little Lord Klaus has remembered his manners, but I still see the little toddler that tried to sup upon my hair when his chubby fingers could claim the strands,” the beautiful one teased, getting a muffled laugh from the children, and a blush for Lord Klaus himself. “Oh, but you have such a family already. May I?”

 

Klaus looked at the hands being held out for his daughter, and he chuckled softly before passing her over. The girl looked at the beautiful elf with wide eyes of wonder and gave a timid wave. “Oh she is a beautiful child! Hello, you may know me as Lady Joy, could you share your name with me little one?”

 

The girl babbled in the language of toddlers, getting a smile from Lady Joy, who let out a laugh that rang like silver bells through the air. “Look my lord, this one is quite the charmer for her age. Oh, I do so love children, they are truly a blessing in this world.”

 

Klaus looked to her companion, who simply nodded their head with a laugh of their own. “Yes, I suppose that you are right my love, please feel free to play with them while us lords have our boring talk,” then the lord stopped, as Klaus’ wife rounded the corner carrying a large wooden bowl of some spiced drink drifting a trail of spiced steam through the night air. “But where are my manners? Blessings upon the Master and Mistress, and all the children of this house.”

 

Even the staff waiting in the wings couldn’t help but wonder if they might have been counted as children of the house, even if the oldest among them would have been old when the current lord was born. But then again, they knew to the Elves, they were but children.

 

“And warm blessings of the fondest heart to you Lord, what name do you share with us this eve?” the lady asked as she held out the bowl between the two men, smiling warmly.

 

“Ah, Lord Love, traveling with the Lady Joy,” the elf answered while Klaus picked up the bowl and took a drink. Turning it thrice, he offered it to Lord Love, who lifted it to their own lips and drank deeply, before passing it to the mistress of the house. “And may I know the name of your beautiful wife? Free of the usual tricks upon this blessed even.”

 

“My wife is Faith Noelle Klaus, Lady of this house,” Klaus explained with a soft chuckle, before bringing his children forward, introducing them each in turn, ending with the youngest, the daughter currently in Lady Joy’s arms as she danced to the music of the troupe on the lawn.

 

The Christmas Elves had returned, and the blessing of a wonderful year were sure to follow. It always happened, and those that knew the truth would always welcome them.

 

 


	60. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

**Song:[ _It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas_](https://youtu.be/fKDk0kgUye8)** **by Pentatonix**

[Logo's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/39786120): [Christmas Time Is Here](https://youtu.be/SvK3jEXJFdg) for A Charlie Brown Christmas

* * *

“The snow is falling again love,” a warm voice whispered as large flakes drifted lazily down outside the bay windows. Two warm, strong arms wrapped around the speaker, while a bearded chin nestled in on her shoulder. “You know, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas around here Nicholas.”

 

A deep rolling belly laugh escaped the bearded man behind her as his eyes danced with mirth. “That it does Martha, that it does. But with you here my heart is always filled with Christmas.”

 

“You flatterer,” Marth teased while turning to kiss her husband on the cheek, her own a rosy glow of mirth. “Have you checked your list yet?”

 

“Just started the double check,” he agreed while holding up the slip of paper that he had gathered before coming out here. “I was just wondering if you might join me for some cookies?”

 

“If I must, I don’t know how to resist such a tempting offer,” she answered while pulling him towards the kitchen, still youthful and light despite her advanced years. “We have those ginger snaps that you love so.”

 

“I was hoping you’d point those out,” he mused while letting her guide him, a twinkle in his eyes. “Did you see the tree they put up in the Grand Hotel? I do believe that it is larger than ever before.”

 

“You think that every year dear,” she stated while pulling out the cookie jar, smiling as she watched him settle in at the table and lean against his fist, watching her with the same lovesick puppy-dog expression he’d had for her since they first met all those years ago.

 

“I heard from the kids, seems that our grandchildren have some desires for this year,” she stated while setting the jar on the table, and going over to get some cocoa going on the stove while talking with her husband. “Barney and Ben are going though a cowboy phase, they want boots, hats, and Bethany asks that if we give them toy pistols, please make them the ones that don’t actually shoot anything.”

 

“I remember her being so disappointed when we wouldn’t give her a gun that shot for Christmas,” Nicholas mused as he leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “Now she’s a shooting instructor for the Olympics.”

 

“I do believe that the boys are taking after her and Bruce,” she agreed with a light laugh as she began mixing the cocoa powder into the lightly boiling milk, adding a dash of cinnamon and slowly stirring until everything was nice and smooth.

 

“And what of Juliet, has she and Janet sent in for Janice and Jen?”

 

“You know our daughter, Janet took over so we actually got it before Christmas Eve,” Martha stated which drew out another laugh as they remembered their own daughter that would never remember the dates for anything, she was getting another personal organizer this year. Janet was installing it on her phone and making sure that her wife didn’t leave without it. “But Janice and Jen would like dolls this year. The fancy ones that walk and talk if you can believe it. I got a picture of the twins too.”

 

“They are getting big, aren’t they? How are they doing?”

 

“Ever the handful, I’ll show you the pictures once I get to my phone,” she answered while pouring out the cocoa into mugs, sprinkling marshmallows on one, and dolloping whipped cream on the other, before dashing sprinkles on the top of both. A candy cane stirring stick later, and she was returning to their table. “They are beautiful, taking after their mother.”

 

“Must get it from their grandmother as well then,” Nicholas flirted as he put his hands over hers, holding the mug against the table for a moment before letting out another chuckle and taking his marshmallow ladened treat back to his side of the table.

 

Martha let out a laugh as she shook her head. “You are as sly with your words as ever Nicholas. Makes me feel like I’m a spry lass of 30 again.”

 

“You know that I fall more in love with you every day, right?” he asked, his smile warm and earnest.

 

Martha blushed slightly as she looked into her whipped cream, smiling sweetly. “You only tell me every chance you get, and I love you for that.”

 

Nicholas let out a chuckle as he drank from the mug, wiping the extra cocoa from his mustache with practiced ease. She smiled back, taking a dainty sip herself before opening the jar and reaching in for a cookie, her eyes widening as she felt a box inside instead. Pulling out a small square box, she put a hand to her lips as her eyes flickered between Nicholas and the box in question. The man simply stood up, taking the box from her and dropping to his knee. “Martha, Forty years ago to the day, you made me the happiest man in the world by agreeing to marry me, only to be blown away by the day you married me.”

 

Opening the box, he revealed a beautiful pair of earrings, with rubies shaped like hearts gleaming above what appeared to be a matching necklace of gold. Her breath taken away, she looked up at his face with wide-eyed amazement. “I want to do so much with you, and this is but the first step to ensuring you know how much I love you. Martha Williamson, will you do me the honor of remaining my wife, and renewing our vows this coming spring?”

 

His question had barely left his lips, before they were cut off by her kissing him silly.

 

“I hope that’s a yes,” he offered after she finished kissing him.

 

Martha let out a laugh as she popped him on the shoulder and took the jewelry from him. “Of course I will Nicholas Williamson, you romantic old coot.”

 

The deep belly laugh that came from him made her smile again as she realized just why she loved him once more. They had been through many years together, and their love was still growing with every passing day. If their children were any indication of the future, she could only see good things.

 

In the hall, the old grandfather clock chimed.


	61. Carol of the Bells

**Song:[Carol of the Bells (Metal Cover)](https://youtu.be/0AuSXvutXsE) by Jonathan Frank & RichaadEB**

**[Logo's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/40288748#workskin): [Silent Night (karaoke)](https://youtu.be/0AuSXvutXsE) \- isisip**

* * *

Staring up at what could only be described as an angel, resplendent in its glory and beaming with an internal light, the soldier held his position with a stoic gaze out over the landscape which he protected. His brothers were positioned nearby; ready to join him in action should anything happen to the Young Lady slumbering under the tree of lights. The fierce young beast she had tamed the year prior slept in her arms, granting an extra level of protection, but still the soldiers stood ready.

They had protected this family for generations, tracing back to the old country, where they fended off goblins and gremlins that sought to steal the gifts left on this night. But as they moved to the new world, they found the threats had not joined in the flight. Instead there was always a sense of something… more… out there. Still the soldiers were ready to serve should the need arise.

Hearing a noise at the edge of his senses, his attention shifted as his hand tightened its grip on his trusty blade. The angel seemed to have heard it as well, as her light focused itself on an opening in the wall where there had not been one before. Out of the hole stepped a tiny winged creature that looked around timidly.

The creature took in the Young Lady and drew back a step, before seeming to wait for some signal. This brought her fully into the glow cast by the showers of twinkling lights flooding the room in warmth and cheer. The frosted purple hair was strange, but not alarming, neither was the lavender skin, or the sparkle of magic. He did not know this creature, but she was… not a threat he didn’t think.

Instead, she turned away from the Young Lady, and flitted up towards the windowsill. There, she traced little designs on the window panes, which frosted over in a white wintery display. Seemingly satisfied with the chilly artwork, she dashed through the air, landing upon the wreath and shaking herself. As he watched, a glow of magic began to follow her, bringing new life to the display he had been watching these past few nights. He remembered ancient lore about these creatures, and what he remembered caused him to freeze even more steadily than he had before.

Sugar plum fairies: while not a threat to the Lords and Ladies of the house, were… tricksy to deal with.

And as she turned to regard him, her knowing smile and playful wink told him it was already too late for him. She knew he was a guardian, and not one of the manufactured replicas like some of his brothers.

She danced through the air to him, landing and smiling at him. A second later, she dipped into a polite curtsey, nearly shocking him into action.

“Sugarplum welcomes you Guardian, and your host. Please grant Sugarplum the chance to bless this house with the magic of the season,” she asked formally, her head bowed in submission. It was a show; she was the one with the power here.

Turning his focus to the angel, high upon the top of the tree he sent out a single inquiring thought to her, wondering what this was about. Would it be safe for the Young Lady?

“Sugarplum has watched the houses in this area for many generations, and yours is the first with a young one to bless in a long time. Please Good Guardian, grant me permission and no harm shall fall upon the Young Lady of this house. This is my vow,” the fae woman whispered softly, her voice thrumming with power as she continued to hold herself in submission to his judgement.

The angel, high upon the top of the tree turned her light upon him, bathing him in her warmth and peace. A moment of clarity washed over him as he received her approval.

“Be welcomed Lady Sugarplum,” he stated in a thick voice, hints of the old country coloring his words. “We protect the Young Lady, but will always welcome comrades.”

That seemed to bring a spark back to Sugarplum as her wings lifted up and shimmered with light as she sprang to her full height. Easily as tall as him, even with his tall hat on, she had the endless energy of the Young Lady decorating the halls for her Christmas Eve. A wave of sparkles and some form of energy erupted out of her and she shot off throughout the room. The manic energy had her traipsing through the garland, swirling through wreaths, lighting upon the twinkling lights in time with their blinking, and generally bursting with life.

His attention shifted to the Young Lady, who was sleeping through it all still cradling the beast in her arms. A soft, rumbling purr reached his ears as he saw the beast watching the strange creature that had come to bless this house. He did not know what it was about this Sugarplum, but it held the beast at bay, and amused it.

Perhaps this might have been what held the Gremlins and Goblins at bay, this creature’s magic was powerful, of that there was no doubt, and he swore that he could feel the deep chiming of ancient silver bells rumbling through the house much like they had in the old country. It made him smile behind his thick beard of white. Yes, this was good.

He and his brothers felt a shift in the energy and snapped to attention just as the Young Lady began to stir, but still Sugarplum did not stop. Instead, she dared to drift closer to the Young Lady and the Beast.

Touching down on the carpeting a few steps away, within easy striking distance of the Beast, she tiptoed closer to the Young Lady’s eyes, and watched as they slowly opened. Sugarplum put a finger to her lips before beginning to dance before her. The swirling, nearly chaotic pattern of her motions blurring her form, and sending out waves of sparkling dust that continued to coat the room in magic of its own.

And then… it almost seemed like there were two Sugarplums, dancing a dance of two spirits in one body, perfectly balanced. She would lift herself like the old country’s dancers, ballerinas if he remembered right, performing for the Young Lady who watched on in fascination as Sugarplum kept within her view the entire time.

And then the two began spinning, and spinning, en pointe whirling around each other and drawing closer. Faster and faster they spun. Eventually merging into the single Sugarplum once again, before she bowed and did a double backflip back out the opening she came. The Young Lady let out a sleepy yawn before closing her eyes again, perhaps to dream of the vision of Sugarplum dancing for her again.

He barely was able to see out the frosted windows as Sugarplum was joined by a full-sized adult human that was strikingly similar to the purple woman, had she a more normal skin-tone.

If he was flesh, he perhaps would have blinked to clear his eyes, but he watched as the human held out a finger, and Sugarplum slapped it with her hand, getting a beaming smile out of the adult human.

Perhaps there was more to this neighborhood than he thought; he would have to discuss this with his brothers when they retired to the boxes for the year. But for now, he had to return to duty.

After all, it wouldn’t do for the Young Lady’s rest to be disturbed after a blessing by one such as Sugarplum ****  
  



	62. My Eyes

**Song:[My Eyes](https://youtu.be/B0FIzeiR-hw) from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog as performed by Neil Patrick Harris and Felicia Day**

**[Logo's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/40532438#workskin): [_Crystallize_](https://youtu.be/aHjpOzsQ9YI) by Lindsey Stirling**

* * *

 

As fires raged before the expansive windows that formerly overlooked a pristine city, a woman looked down with a scowl. “Look around, and see, see the folly of humankind! I could dump poison into the water, and not a thing would come of it! Those were the hopes and dreams of so many people… and you… you brought them crashing down.”

“I did, because we were drowning in the lost and found!” came a voice from behind her, causing her to turn to the peacefully smiling maniac that had brought the destruction to her very doorstep. Vile thoughts roiled in her mind at the face before her. Gleaming white hair, flowing down over creamy shoulders, gleaming from the dull light of the golden halo above its head. “They saw the truth, and I have freed them.”

“The truth? THE TRUTH? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE TRUTH?” she snapped, storming over to the angelic being, her eyes flaming with rage.

“You have unleashed nothing but filth and lies on those poor people I had saved!”

The being watched her with an almost amused smile as she raised a hand, a wall of force catching her and forcing her to stagger backwards. “The truth that they were not living, they were trapped in a delusion you had crafted, my dear.”

She snarled, her pressed suit ripping with the exertion of fighting against the strange powers pushing against her. But her eyes were locked on the being she had once invited into her home with open arms. “Can’t you hear that breaking sound? THAT… That is the sound of their hearts shattering because of you.”

“No, I believe that was your windows. Worry not, no one will be harmed by it.”

“BECAUSE THEY ARE DYING ELSEWHERE!”

The angelic figure drifted towards the now open window, gazing out over the city with a peaceful expression. It gazed out over the sea of fire and destruction before them, watching it for a moment before speaking. “Do you truly believe that?”

“How can I not? Even if the emergency services are in full swing, they cannot be everywhere at once.”

“Curious…” it mused before turning back to face her again, the energy shifting so that instead of struggling forward, she was forced down onto her knees. “You still refuse to see the truth.”

“I see through the light you cast and into the darkness inside of you false icon!” she snapped hotly as she staggered back to one foot, the power of the being constantly dragging at every fiber of her being.

Marching forward, she marveled in the back of her mind that her legs weren’t splintering as each step caused dents to form in the flooring under her foot. “Look around! You have destroyed everything! I worked for ages to build this up!”

“Ages, yes… many ages to build this utopic vision you hold dear, but that was not your purpose here. Now, was it?” the being asked, getting a scoff of dismissal mixed into the exertion of her approach. She was going to punch the smug self-importance straight out of this being of destruction.

Her eyes narrowed as the words echoed in her mind, growing louder with each inch she claimed nearer to the angelic being. “What purpose? I was born and raised in this city, and like any human, I wanted to make it better for all of us! And I did it!”

The angel drifted forward, its eyes focused on hers with an intensity that rivaled the Sun she imagined was somewhere behind the smoke of the fires consuming the city all around them. She could feel something building in her, a dark smouldering rage that was barely tempered by…

What was holding it back?

“You do not remember,” the voice stated as if her mind had been read.

But that wasn’t the important part, the important part was that the angel was now in reach. A single surge of her muscles, each and everyone screaming in protest against whatever forces the angel exerted brought her forward. The impact was like striking a brick wall, and she could feel her wedding band bending under the contact, but the thin line of gold tearing across the face of the formerly perfect being was worth every bit of the exertion.

And then the weight on her was lifted. She could move freely again, while the angelic being tipped its head to the side and lightly dabbed its fingers against the golden streak. Pulling them away, it mused at the stuff it had flowing through its body before wiping it off without a second thought. “I see, you truly do not remember.”

“I remember enough! I remember being abandoned naked in the gutter of some back alley with no past, and building a future brick by brick. I remember meeting my wife in a park, and dropping my ice cream cone as I saw her strolling by! I REMEMBER MY LIFE!”

“No you do not. You remember the lies you have wrapped yourself in, and it is time to remember before them,” the angel stated coldly as it reached for her with its gold tinged fingers.

Backing away from the being, she felt a surge of a new emotion washing away the remains of her rage. She knew that she didn’t want to be touched by those fingers, because the angel was going to do something.

An explosion somewhere caused the tower to quaver, and an entire section of the room fell away, tumbling down into the fires below. “Stay the fuck away from me!” she shouted as the angel continued coming close.

“Open your eyes, see the truth,” the being stated as it finally trapped her against the wall, the portrait of her wife toppling off as her elbow struck it. The golden fingers touched her cheeks and flashes of memories began washing over her. Before her two-hundred years guiding this city, before she fell in love with the woman that had shared three-hundred years with her, before waking up in the alley, she remembered.

She remembered the men, drunk and armed with guns and clubs cornering her.

She remembered telling someone to run.

She remembered the scream of horror as pain exploded in her chest.

She remembered the attack on the club she had gone with her girlfriend to.

She remembered, and she screamed in horror.

The angelic being leaned forward, pulling her into a hug. Silver-white hair enveloped the both of them as the voice spoke softly into her ear. “Look around, you are surrounded by lies. When I left you that night, I did not believe to ever see you again.”

“I wish I didn’t have to take you from here, but somewhere better awaits us, and your wife is there too. I would love to meet her, please… let go.”

“Please forgive me?” the being asked, as the silver hair faded away to a punkish blue hair cut, and the gleaming white clothes replaced with ripped up denim and fishnets. A face that she hadn’t remembered until a moment ago smiling kindly at her.

“They have all moved on to where they belong, I stayed. For you.”


	63. Clockworks

**Song:[ _Clockworks_](https://youtu.be/NU3aCNQAqwc) by Miracle of Sound (Based on Dishonored II)**

**[Logo's Piece:](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/40780925#workskin) [Friends on the Other Side](https://youtu.be/ZNFLqNFp2qU) cover by Jonathan Young + AHmusic**

 

Just as a side warning, this one went a lot darker than expected. Those of a more sensitive nature are advised to skip this one.

* * *

 

The haunting echoes of the cries of whales drifted over the balcony and reverberated inside the mind of the sole living occupant inside the room. The creaks and groans of the ship around them brought little solace as they reached up to touch the scar passing over the once green eye, now a ghastly milky white. Somewhere in the depths of the ship, a bell chimed, once… twice... 

 

The form snorted and turned away from the salty spray of the sea to look about the quarters they found themselves in. Had it really been so long since they had began this mad quest of vengeance? The fool probably did not even know that his days were numbered. But they knew.

 

Once, they had been a happy, young girl, with bouncing copper curls and vibrant green eyes that gleamed in the mid-day sun. Then the pirate scum had came to their humble village on a day much like this. They had welcomed the bastard, with his tales of the high seas, and message of freedom.

 

And then the scum’s crew came in the night killing off those that wouldn’t be worth it to sell on the Slave Market and looting everything not nailed down. Now she was the only one to have survived that night, through sheer dint of luck. A pirate had taken a stab at her, and pierced her father’s boiler for his brewery. The stab had cost her left eye, and the steam had claimed much of her once beautiful skin with horrid scarring, but she had appeared dead enough to the pirates that had came back to ‘rescue’ their companion. The captain’s pistol sending a splattering of gore over the once beautiful girl as they laughed to see her writhing there in agony.

 

It had been in that night that she had seen her destiny, she made a promise to Cog, and began building once the pain had ebbed enough she could move. Designs for robot crew that never needed rest, of a magnificent vessel that would be as powerful against the wind as with it, and of weapons that would burn ships, or melt skin from bones, or splinter wood into nothing with a single volley. And yet only one thing burned in her mind like the steam had burned into her skin.

 

Captain Red Beard of the ship Sovereign Slayer, she would have the prize her god Cog had promised her for her service.

 

The scout drones had brought back an image of the skull eating a crown of the Sovereign Slayer’s flag, bringing a grim smile that tugged at the corners of her scars. “Oh Cog, it is time to claim what’s mine, and then you shall have me entirely.”

 

That had been two hours ago, and here she was, staring at the ship that had been haunting her sleeping hours for years. They were just lowering whaling boats when she came upon them. Licking her lips, she raised her metallic fist and pointed to the vessel, her good eye burning with eagerness as the robotic creatures she had crafted turned to look where she was pointing. “GET THE HAMMERS DRUMMING MY PETS! BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE CAPTAIN!”

 

The window closed, cutting off the breeze as the wheels picked up speed. She could hear the sounds of cannons going off, and their great metal balls bouncing off her hull with nary a mark to the metal. That just bought a dark laugh to her throat as she felt the speed picking up. It was time, the Vengeful Narwhal was a marvel as it sliced through the water with ease, the tip of its metal prow aimed for the doomed vessel. She would have her prize.

 

The sound of the wood ship being pierced by her mechanized wonder of the age was almost musical to her, especially when it was followed shortly by the hissing noise of the airlocks opening to expose her babies to their prey. Scuttling spider frames that would tear swarm the sailors and tear them to pieces. Gleaming leopard shapes that would pounce and crush the victims. And one per side, the massive bears, that would smash through the enemy, destroy the ship, and generally lead the charge as they destroyed the pirate vessel from within. Beams splintering and staining red with the blood of the victims.

 

She could almost feel glee in her dead heart as she watched from the eyes of her pets, the view-screen showing her the grisly circus befalling her enemies.

 

Seeing the cages, she stalled a smaller group of her pets, letting the rest tear into the crew that had been tormenting these seas for far too long. She knew the shapes within weren’t her former family and friends, but she couldn’t bring herself to kill them with the monsters that had captured them.

 

Taking control of one of the leopards, she moved it to the locks, and with its powerful jaw tore them free from the cells that held the prisoners in place. The door swung open with ease, bringing with it a few weak, malnourished forms that hadn’t seen daylight in a while. The Leopards formed up around these forms as she weighed her options. The ship was not going to last once she pulled the Narwhal free, and the whaling ships had fallen free during the first blow.

 

“Cog, my promise will remain, but I must…”

 

A soft hiss of understanding from the pipes, and a clinking of cogs opening one of her doors answered her. She was given Cog’s blessing to save them. “Thank you. I will still be yours, but if I can save one… they may join us in mechanized harmony.”

 

The former captives were herded onto the Narwhal, never noticing two of the spider bots carrying a satchel between them with her prize. The valuables that the bears and leopards were currently loading into her crab frames would go to buying metals to build more of them.

 

But she knew, for she saw all that her little pets did, and she knew what was in the satchel.

 

After all, she had been promised an eye for an eye, and Cog had some wonderful ways to make her see again.


	64. I'm a Member of the Midnight Crew

Song: [I'm a Member of the Midnight Crew](https://youtu.be/zjhbLDJzXAs) by David Ko (originally by Eddie Morton)

[Logo's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/40995056): [Hello, My Baby](https://youtu.be/zD3XS4w8YkE) by The Chordettes

* * *

 

The dimness of the late night tavern was moderately interrupted by the low burning embers in the fireplace, the lights at the bar, and a single candle burning on a table in the back, refracted by the occasional glittering of a jewel passing into the light it tried to put out. If there was more light, one might have seen the woman inspecting the jewel to be the stark beauty of a mid-winter’s day. Sheets of snow white hair would have gleamed in the better lighting, and the arctic blue of her eyes would have possibly helped to freeze you in place as she passed a silent judgement over you.

 

But for that, you would have to catch her in the daylight hours.

 

As the night watch chimed the bell in the townsquare twelve times, she would turn to look out the window, letting the feeble moonlight play out over her frosted features. The pale light would cast an ethereal glow about her for a moment before she returned her focus to the jewel in her hand. A faint silver chain trailed down to a strange orb of clear material, as unlike most things of that nature, it sparkled like a cut and polished diamond.

 

At least, most of it did, there was a small patch of darkness inside the orb that no matter how the light played out over the surface didn’t seem to brighten at all. As the twelfth stroke faded into the night, the pale lady let out a sigh and shifted slightly. Taking up her silk sleeve, she cupped the ball carefully and set to polishing. “Fine pair of the Midnight Crew, are we not?” the woman whispered in a posh voice, barely above a breath, yet it seemed to carry on a wave of authority. Across the tavern, the barkeep glanced up at the whisper of noise, but seeing a still mostly filled glass of wine, went back to the late night task of cleaning the bar. The soothing sound of the rag brushing against the wood seemed to sooth something in the patron as she let her lips pull into a slight smile.

 

It was strange, not even a month prior, she would not have imagined that she would be in such a lowly establishment as this, but that was back when she had her own palace to tend to. Back when the maid in the gem was by her side.

 

It was before the crusader had come to her, and charged her with fell magic and cruelty to her citizens by the law of his god. She had been harsh, but that was only because of the nature of the land they lived in. The isolated kingdom, far to the north that she had united under her banner and organized to prosper instead of just surviving. It was thanks to her, and her powers that they had done more than scrape out the meagerest of existence.

 

With a land as rough and harsh as it was, she knew that her punishments would have to seem savage to the soft people of the warmlands. The ones that constantly sought to exploit her people for the thick furs of the ice bears they claimed, or the fine oils and fats of the sea life their ice fisheries would kill in the process of protecting their food source, or the rare elements they dredged up from the frozen depths of the sea of fallen stars.

 

But she also could not build up high towers, nor delve deep for dungeons. Not with the ice and the frozen rock. So instead, she had sought a way to deal with troublemakers with the limited space they could spare. Nor could she afford to just execute every person that violated the rules. The population was thin enough as it was.

 

Her answer was the crystals.

 

Inside the prisoner would be forced to watch the world outside pass them by. They would never age, never move, but be frozen in the same pose until she released them and allowed them freedom once again. The worst of these would be pulled out once a year, and tested to see if they were broken enough to be sent into a resource gathering crew to serve the lands. The others would serve out their time.

 

But that lead to something she hadn’t foreseen.

 

It was small things that started showing that something was amiss, an unduly harsh sentence. A casual dismissal of her advisor’s concerned reaction. Little things that she would not have done before, but perhaps the crusader arrived at what might have been the final tipping point.

 

Looking back at the crystal again, she pursed her lips and sighed heavily out of her nose. This woman had once been a loyal and efficient maid, that had dared to be more beautiful and distracting than any other had been to her before. With hair the color of honey, eyes that sparkled with emerald warmth anytime that she looked up from her tasks that the Queen had seen her perform, and a casual confidence that was hard to ignore.

 

No, this was no mere maid, but the Queen had never thought of what was different about her. Why she haunted her mind late in the night when she was wrapping up some business details for the kingdom. Or how the sound of her voice singing softly in the hall outside of her bed chambers seemed to bring the Sun’s scant warmth with it and chase away the chills of the night prior.

 

How often was it that she would go to bed with the maid having been there to bid her a good evening, only for her to rise hours later to find the same maid performing her duties in the hall nearby? She had lost count, but it had felt… comforting to have her about.

 

But that comfort, and the other feeling she couldn’t quite place, started to trouble her, making her think that the maid had ulterior motives at play. And so when the young woman had dropped a teacup and it broke, the Queen knew what she had to do. She had the maid clasped in irons, and dragged before her in the hall of Judgement.

 

The farce of a trial was a painful memory for her, but she clung to it for the simple fact that it allowed her to remember the sweet and tender smile that the maid gave her, even when the sphere was brought before her. She could remember looking into the orb and seeing her with her arms outstretched and beckoning her to something.

 

Then the crusader attacked, and she had lost her magic with the actions of that man.

 

He had barged into her castle, in the hearts of her land at the behest of his god, and driven her back with his blade swinging. In the battle, she had lost track of the orb, and it had fallen away from her. Yet, she had intended to release the maid the next day. After dealing with this cowardly attack.

 

That had been months ago, and now she was on a quest to regain power enough to save the maid, and once again hold the powers to save her kingdom.

 

Perhaps the maid’s warmth could shine upon her once more, and she could learn what it was that she stirred in her heart. But for now, she wandered for the answers she needed.


	65. Judgement

**Song: _[Judgement](https://youtu.be/VqdvMqGWX3A) _ by TryHardNinja**

**[Logo's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/41203643):  _[Shut Up and Dance](https://youtu.be/mjdIJ5ZSpSk) _ by Walk the Moon**

**Related to the rest of Marina's Trials ([1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283447), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283501), [3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29293914), [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29678094), [5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31173081), [6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31350669), [7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/31922250), [8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33267582), [9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/33461475), [10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34871735) and [11](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/39085156))**

* * *

 

Locking eyes with the woman across the table, Jasmine found herself measuring her silently. It had been a bit of a whirlwind to get to this point, and she knew that keeping it secret this far was possibly the worst idea she’d had so far. But this was beyond even what she had thought possible.

Grey streaks in otherwise brown hair, a stern matronly glare of piercing green eyes, and a scowl that she doubted Marina could copy if she tried. It would seem that God had set into motions through her some drastic things. “Mrs. Smithson, I… I honestly had not expected you to meet with me.”

The unspoken distance of the entire width of the United States of America aside, she didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“I understand that you did not Jasmine,” the woman stated as she softened slightly, a small smile spreading on her face. There was a glimmer of what Jasmine saw in Marina daily, and she could only hope that it was a promising sign. “But as my husband found out. He does not speak for me, my beliefs, or my finances.”

Jasmine didn’t know if she was to laugh at that or not, and so settled for nervously clearing her throat as she drummed her fingers nervously on the tabletop between them. She had left Desmonda with Marina for the afternoon, the pair of them at a bookstore trying to distract Marina from the depressive funk that swirled around her these days. It had taken a lot to keep Marina out of bed, let alone in class, and even more to ensure that she kept up her grades. Today seemed to be a good day, and she only hoped that the mother that had flown out within a month of finding out what happened was another bonus to that.

“But I did not ask you here to talk about my daughter… not entirely.”

Okay, so there was now ice coating her spine as she found the softened glare hardening once more, and boring into her soul, making her swear that she was sweating pellets of ice. Taking a deep breath, she nodded her head in understanding. This was about her then.

“I saw that there is love in your heart, and a certain amount of passion to help my daughter… but what is she to you?”

Ah, there was something she could answer, and opening her mouth, she paused. They had never discussed what they were to each other, had they? She had confessed her interest to Marina, and they had even gone on some dates. Yet, she hadn’t called her a girlfriend before. Looking down at her hands, she gulped down the previous answer and thought about what she was going to say.

“Your daughter and I… we are friends, and she makes me want to be a good person. I know that it is fairly recent, but we both confessed to each other. And I would love to call her my girlfriend, but I haven’t asked her if she prefers that term or another. We have had a couple casual dates, and I am hoping to do more,” she confessed feeling the matron weighing each word in that way that only mothers could. “I love her, and even if it is not as life long partners, I promised to God above that I would never leave her. And ma’am, I do not intend to.”

Feeling her resolve settling in with that promise, she looked back at the mother of the woman she loved. What she found was not the stone face intimidation of a mother bear waiting to tear someone apart, nor was it a judgemental stare of an executioner. Rather, it was a tender warm smile of a mother that was proud of what she had seen, there was a touch of tired happiness at the corner of her green eyes, barely visible behind the frames of her glasses.

“No, I suppose you do not,” the woman stated after a moment, a touched tone coloring her words. “You know, I do not know everything about this… love that you both share. I grew up in a different time, but I know that the world is becoming a more accepting place.”

“I cannot promise to be perfect, but I did promise my daughter to try and always be there for her. For nearly two decades, I have kept that oath,” she explained softly as her lips turned upwards in a smile. “Two decades, I have loved her, and watched her. I knew that something was going on with her and you, back home. I did not imagine it was… No, I did suspect that she may have some feelings of this nature, but… To think it continued to grow ever since.”

“And then you dare say that you could return it, and swearing before the Father himself that you would stay by her side through it to whatever end? Why I dare say that this is a lovely romance novel that my daughter is living,” she joked softly, though the smile faded swiftly. “If but for my husband, and those of his mindset, it would be.”

“Mrs. Smithso-” Jasmine started, only for the older woman to cut in.

“My daughter is very precious to me, and she is my only one. So, I of course did some investigating,” she stated as she pulled out an envelope and set it on the table. Jasmine knew the penmanship instantly, after all the signatures her mother had to give her, one would expect her to know by heart. “Do not worry, I was discrete, but when I mentioned flying out, she asked if I minded giving this to you.”

“Now… I wish to see my daughter, and it had better be soon,” she stated once Jasmine had claimed the letter and tucked it into her backpack. “My husband found out what my wrath is compared to the Heavenly Father’s, do you wish to know as well?”

Jasmine grabbed her phone and smiled nervously before selecting a number she had set up just for this result. Hearing two rings, she almost died of relief when it was picked up. “Desmonda? Are you and Marina done with your shopping at the bookstore?”

“Yes, we are waiting to check out,” the heiress stated as the bustle of the store drifted in the background. “What’s up Jasmine?”

“I was out and about, and thought I’d see if you both wanted to join me for lunch at the diner just up the street,” Jasmine explained, looking straight at Mrs. Smithson who was watching her with those emerald eyes that cut into her soul. “I’m with someone that I’d love for you both to meet.”

“We’ll be there in about ten? I’m almost to the checkout, and Marina taught me it was rude to be on the phone while there.”

“See you then Desmonda, and tell Marina that I love her, please?”

“She knows, but I will. Bye.”

Lowering the phone that suddenly went quiet, she smiled nervously at the woman across the way. “It will be about ten minutes, would you like a refill on your drink?”

“Oh, that would be lovely, and then I believe you and I can have a lovely little chat,” she stated with a voice that promised either mercy or genocide based on her answer.

Flagging down a waitress, she nodded her agreement, feeling suddenly like she was dying of thirst.


	66. She's a Pirate

**Song:[ _He's a Pirate (Pirates of the Caribbean Theme)_](https://youtu.be/2EXysr5NRiE) covered by The Snake Charmer**

**[Logo's Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898376/chapters/41417297): [Losing My Life](https://youtu.be/9zmizj57PFQ) by Falling in Reverse**

**Longtime readers might recognize this as a continuation of two previous chapters. ([1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283360) and [2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34170833))**

* * *

The cry of the gulls were the first sign that they had broken through the storms swirling around the Heart of the Sea, and the islands in the Straits of Davy Jones. The salty spray of the air washing over the hands warily loosening their grips on the ropes tying them to the mast. The Lady of Fortune had seen them through the worst of it with seeming ease, and the compass around Marina’s neck pointed to a rock that looked more like a rock spur than an actual proper island.

 

The approach looked rough, with dozens of rocks jutting upwards, and many a shipwreck serving as a warning to those that would approach. Marina looked towards her mother, seeing the same assessment on her face as what she felt in her heart. This was not a good place to be. But the treasure they were seeking was waiting there for them, and so she nodded and turned to give orders.

 

“Pair of ships coming in through the storm Cap’n!” the lookout cried from the crows nest, getting all heads on a swivel. A helpful point from the scout, and a spyglass, they spotted them. The titles were enough to tell her what she needed to know. “The Foxhound and Wolfhound… light frigates, support ships of the Fist. What do you say ladies? Are we going to let them take us?”

 

The cry of dismissal that echoed back brought a smirk to her face. “Ready the swift boat! We’ll launch a party to land, and then the lady a siren will be! Let’s draw them in and sink them!”

 

The approval of that brought Marina back to the present, as she had been recalling that she had heard those names before, and wondered if He was there. She dared hope that Miguel wasn’t stupid enough to still be after her, but instead rushed to be by her captain’s side should her expertise be needed. The ship’s bosun was placing orders for the rest of the crew, but as one of the two magic users on the ship, she was under the direct command of the Captain.

 

“Captain?” she asked once she saw the other mage be ordered to the caster’s watch, really just a railed off area of the ship that had wards to protect the person inside so they could cast their spells without worry of being splintered by anything less than a full broadside to the watch.

 

Her mother turned on her and smiled, clapping her on the shoulder. “Rina, good to see you lass. We’ll handle these little ones, but the Fist is still out there. I’m putting you in charge of the landing craft, and sending several of fine ladies with you.”

 

“I’m hearing a but in there,” she countered, giving her mother a dubious look.

 

The experienced sailor had the grace to look a little sheepish, before turning towards the craft being loaded with munitions and swords. “I want you to take Aurora with you,” she stated, indicating the Navigator that was huddled in a corner looking half a breath from a panic attack. “She’s not fit for sea combat, and the storm’s shaken her already.”

 

The reminder that the girl’s parents had died at sea due to storms flashed through her mind as she regarded her. She was maybe a year her junior, but hadn’t had the life she’d grown up with. Her roughhousing in the backyard, replaced with endless lectures and tutors. Her days on the sea, traded for being locked inside a classroom.

 

She had grown a bit of a soft spot for the girl, and it seemed her mother had as well. “I’ll watch over her,” Marina agreed softly, turning to see her mother giving her a warm smile. “I’ll protect her, and bring us both back with the treasure.”

 

“I know you will, thank you,” Scarlet offered softly as she hugged her daughter and pushed her towards the Navigator. “Go now, and fair seas.”

 

“Shoot straight and true,” she offered with a wave before walking over towards the poor girl clutching her map case like it was a life preserver. Kneeling down, she held out her hand before the pinched shut eyes before speaking. “Come on ‘Rora, let’s get off this ship before the fighting starts. We’re going to the island!”

 

That got a response from the terrified navigator, who looked at the hand like it was a foreign concept. A moment later, she took it and pulled herself up. Looking a little more sure of herself now that she wasn’t trying to blend into the deckwork, she joined up with Marina and the others on the small craft. The weapons in the middle were wrapped in waterproof tarp, to keep the powder dry.

 

A nod from one of the oarsmen and they were lowered to the sea behind the Lady of Fortune. Using the bulk of the ship to mask their departure, the group all set to the oars, save Marina who looked back at the ship to see her mother standing and ordering the rest about. Smiling to herself, she summoned a little magic and touched the water behind them. “Lhartsressaw,” she commanded in the language of the arcane, and the tiny craft leapt forward, heading for the island at a speed that no amount of rowing could match. Small shifts in her fingers allowed them to swerve around the rocky outcroppings and shipwreck with ease.

 

As they got closer to the island, she pulled her fingers out of the water and let the power dissipate into the air. The oarsmen lowered the wooden oars into the water and held on to slow them down before they washed up on the stony pebble beach. “Let’s go ladies,” she commanded, hopping out and crunching her way towards the center of the island. She had seen a cave there, and that would be a good a place to start looking as any.

 

The sparse plant growth was all low and barely holding on, giving her a clue as to what this island was, if the infernal additional heat didn’t clue her to begin with. Getting to the base of the mountain, she sighed as she tried to find a way to climb up to the cave.

 

“Excuse me, Marina? Might we go that way?” Aurora asked, pointing to a small opening in the rock face, one that she could just barely make out the sight of natural stairs inside before the sound of cannon fire filled the air. Seemed that the battle was underway.

 

“Seems as good a way as any right now, let’s go!”

 

The six of them slipped through the opening, adjusting their cutlasses and pistols to be easier to draw in the narrow space. Two of the oarsmen were in front, two covering the rear, while Marina and Aurora took the center and guided them up the winding, barely lit stairs towards where they hoped the cave was.

 

Only doubling back thrice was probably a good indicator that they were lucky, and what the found when they got there made the climb very much worth it. At least, they thought so for a moment before Aurora asked the important question.

 

“This ship of gold is nice and all, but how do we get it out of here? And what are those propellers for?”

 


	67. Airship Pirates

**Song: _[Airship Pirates](https://youtu.be/L2W7r_aNxrg)_ by Abney Park**

**[Logo's Piece](https://logo-comics.tumblr.com/post/182543171609/the-songs-and-stories):  _[Losing My Mind](https://youtu.be/n5TpNmS4OX0)_ by Mystery Skulls **

**Previous Chapters in Pirate Marina's Tale ([1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/29283360), [2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/34170833), and [3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826311/chapters/41413700))**

* * *

The metallic construct was certainly pretty looking, even if after closer inspecting the metal was not gold but something a fair bit harder. There was a lot of questions going about with the crew, but not a single one of them could figure out an answer among them. Why was this here? How was this here? What were with those blackened skeletal remains by the main hatch?

That third one made them look towards the back of the cavern warily, noticing that it was indeed a bit warmer inside the cave than it rightly should be. “Okay… anyone have suggestions ladies? I’d love to hear it,” Marina asked as she turned towards the main opening with a frown. They could see the battle, but more than that, there was a massive fleet waiting on the other side of the reefs, and several smaller ships heading for the island.

“What if we stole this ship?” Aurora asked after a minute, kneeling next to the base of the ship, eying up some strange skis that it was sitting on. “It looks like it was brought in from the opening there and turned around… I think we could get it out the same way.”

“And then what? We aren’t near water unless…” Marina trailed off as she looked at the ship again. It did look like it had deployment points on the sides for sails, similar to the wings of a bird. Maybe if they got lucky.

A rumbling of the ground interrupted her thoughts as the smell of rotten eggs filled the air, along with a boiling hot wave. “I think that’s the only thing we have now, let’s get in there!”

The door proved to be minorly troublesome, as the lock wasn’t even key based, but a tumbler of letters instead of numbers. Slipping the probe in between the wheels made short work of lining it up for them to flip over and see, her name reflecting back.

“Father…” she mused as another rumble was accompanied by cracking rocks, and a soft, low bubbling sound. “In we go!”

Making sure all her crew made it onto the ship, she sealed the door shut behind her and began looking for the helm, or anything to make it go really. The wheel was in the right place, thought it was far smaller than she’d have imagined. It also seemed to move back and forward. There was also a display of several gauges to one side, and metal shutters over the front screens.

What they didn’t find was any way to get the ship to move the propellers sticking out of its backside. The only other thing was on the wall opposite of the gauges was an opening in the wall, set on a disc that could rotate. After confirming that no one outside had been carrying anything that could be fit there, they fought down panic as another rumble echoed through the metallic hull, and the already hot interior grew even more suffocating. “What did you use Father? What was the key that we’re missing? Hcim erhüf!”

The desperate cry seemed to have paid off as her compass lifted from her chest and began hovering in front of her, glowing softly as it spun lazily in the air. Snatching the wooden ornament, she saw the shape was just about right, and thrust it forward. A couple misses due to haste, she felt it slip in and set itself on some sort of latch with a click. Then an explosion of runic language scrawled over the formerly blank wall as a hum of life began surging through the craft.

She felt the wheel respond in her hand, moving much more easily than her tests earlier had proved, and by the gauges controls folded out marked with the runes for speed on them. “Aurora, take the controls, right one is faster, left one is slower, and the one in the middle says wings,” she commanded as she looked around the cabin coming to life, marvelling as vents began to draw out the hot air, replacing it with stale dusty cool air. They’d have to clean that out later, but for now she motioned for the rowing crew to man what looked like cannons with triggers on them. It seemed this bird had talons of its own.

Then the metal shutters pulled back and she saw the plume of smoke trailing past their ship. “Right then… bring us up to speed, and once we’re clear deploy those wings,” she commanded as she took up her spot at the wheel, bracing it as the hum of the engines began to grow louder throughout the cabin. Metal groaned, and wood creaked, but the bird began to creep forward on its skis, drawing closer to the cave’s opening.

She wasn’t sure if it was the ship shuddering, or the rock slide outside the entrance, but she prayed that they would be able to get out of here alive and in one piece. It would be terrible to come all this way and lose their prize but as she watched the rocks outside grow larger, and the smoke thicker, the thought of just living was a nice one.

“BRACE FOR IMPACT LADIES!” she commanded before feeling a burst of speed as the first ski lost traction, and they began having less resistance. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Aurora flick the control for the wings, and heard the grinding sound of something metal extending out, when another rune caught her sight. “Aurora, the one that looks like a closed eye please.”

She hoped that it was the shutters, because that glass didn’t look like it would protect them too much. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the spray of glass as rocks slammed through it and cut her to ribbons, but instead only heard faint metallic pings. Peeking an eye open, she found that the eye had been the one for the shutters, and that they displayed a lot of weird things on the inside. Fighting with the feeling of the wheel pulling forward, she focused instead on holding it steady than deciphering the stuff before her.

And then the sounds of the rocks bouncing against the hull was gone, and they were alone with the sound of the engines. Catching Aurora’s eye, she nodded towards the shutters. The navigator reached out for the eye again, touching it and opening the shutters ones more, showing off nothing but an expanse of the sky in front of them, and the ocean below them. Stepping to the right, she accidentally landed on a pedal she hadn’t seen before and her wheel began lifting upwards, into a bubble in the glass. Looking around she found herself staring into storm clouds in every direction but behind them.

Behind them was smoke, fire, and steam as the mountain oozed forth lava that rolled down into the ocean below. “Well now, from the fire and ashes we rose, eh girl?”

“Like a phoenix Captain Miranda,” Aurora commented softly, drawing her attention to a speaking horn she hadn’t meant to muse into. “We’ll put in to name her after we figure out if we can land without destroying her.”

“I have faith in you, but look for books or something in there, we might need them.”

“First captain, should we test out the cannons? The girls are saying that they could possibly hit the Imperials from here.”

Pausing she turned the wheel, banking the ship so she wouldn’t go into the storm wall, and then saw the wooden ships down in the ocean below. “Make it so, but ensure they won’t blow up on us first if you please First Mate.”

“Aye aye,” Aurora stated, coming into her own as a pirate it seemed.


End file.
